Becoming Fire
by off2neverland
Summary: In the weeks following Templar Grand Master Crawford Starrick's death, Victorian London's Templar factions are caught up in a brutal struggle for dominance. Swept up into this fight is Miss Jessamine Disraeli, daughter of England's beloved Prime Minister. Miss Disraeli becomes an unwilling pawn in a game of life and death, battling the fire around her and finding it within herself.
1. Chapter 1

**August 1868**

A face is rather difficult to draw. The size has to be just right, the structure of the jawline and cheekbones must be perfect. A strong forehead and hairline, eyebrows. Eyes set apart at just the right distance, and the exact same shape. The nose, slender at first and then rounded at the ends. If the nose is not perfect, the mouth will look strange regardless. One of the most apparent ways to tell what a person was feeling at the time of the picture is their mouth. A frown, a smile, a straight line? These lips are tilted upwards in a content smile. Then the chin. Finally, some color: a blush on the cheeks, the color of their eyes, their lips, their hair color.

The sunlight outside of my window has steadily moved across my paper, causing me to frequently change my position to stay in the light. I shift again so the sunlight can catch my drawing. It must be early evening now. The sun has dimmed, and I am already pressed against the wall of my window seat to get enough light to draw. The charcoal sweeps upwards in short motions as the eyelashes come into fruition. I add more definition to the eyebrows, and then I darken his jaw a little more with that trademark stubble. I exchange the charcoal pencil for a dark red chalk that I smudge lightly over his lips and cheeks to give him life. His eyes gaze up at me from beneath his hair, which I have drawn just how I like it: long, before he cuts it.

"Hello, dear."

Startled, the red jumps across the page and creates an ugly line over his left ear. I inwardly groan before quickly yanking a landscape drawing over him.

"Hello, Mother. I did not hear you come in."

She smiles at me, coming closer, "What are you drawing?"

"A sunset I saw the other day in Saint James Park."

Mother peers over my shoulder at the sunset, making a noise of approval, "It is very beautiful, Jessamine."

"Thank you."

"Will you join me for dinner? Your father sends his love, but he has had a long day and is resting in his room."

"Of course."

I set down my drawings on the window seat, making sure he stays covered, before standing and following Mother out of my bedroom. That was close. I mimic her posture as best I can, folding my hands over my stomach and lifting my chin. The hoop skirts barely swish over the floor, our heels clicking over the marble. She has clearly decided we will take dinner in her private quarters, as we are walking in the opposite direction of the reception rooms and dining room. We have no one visiting Hughenden Manor, so we can dine in each others' company for once. The table in her parlor has been set for two. We sit as the first course is served a la russe by the waitstaff: oysters on the half shell.

"Enjoy your dinner Mrs. Disraeli, Miss Disraeli."

"Thank you, Marsha." Mother smiles kindly at the maid.

I place my napkin on my lap, daintily picking up my spoon.

"How was your day, Mother?"

"It was a relatively boring day, if you must know. I finished revising the plans for the new gardens with Lord Popplewell. Not much excitement, that man has all the personality of a rock."

I hide my giggle, "Oh, what a shame. You know how I love your stories."

She chuckles, "I do. What about you, dear?"

"Studied with Miss Greville in the morning, and spent my afternoon drawing."

"What a relaxing day we both had."

I make a noise of agreement. We lapse into silence, the only sound being that of our silverware against the china. I like these dinners the best, no protocol or need for "pleasant discussion". Mother and I are both content to enjoy each other's presence, and there is no need to worry about conversing with other guests. I steadily chew my way through the courses: steamed carrots and potatoes in broth, citrus ice, beef roast with mushrooms, and a nice cake with some preserved fruits.

"Oh, I almost forgot! I have invited some guests over for luncheon tomorrow."

I raise my head to find her eyes sparkling with what looks to be mirth.

"Really," I ask, attempting to seem nonchalant, "who?"

"It is a surprise, but I believe you will like them. A very interesting pair, those two. You must wear that new dress from Paris! It's simply beautiful."

That new dress is quite revealing, it hugs my waist rather provocatively and it is low-cut enough to expose the skin of my chest. I must admit, though, that I love its soft cream color. It is tight enough for only a narrow hoop skirt and corset.

"As you wish."

"Good night, Jessamine. Sleep well, and meet me in the blue reception room tomorrow at a quarter past nine."

"Of course. Good night, Mother."

I leave her room. I wander through the hall back to my bedroom. It is too late to attempt to fix that drawing of him, so I may as well put it away. I turn on the gas lamps along the wall. I slip the drawings into the drawer of my desk just as Sarah enters the room.

"Good evening, Miss Disraeli. Shall I get you ready for bed?"

"Thank you, Sarah."

She smiles at me. My lady's maid is a kind woman in her later years, but she is the closest thing I have to a friend. Every other noble girl my age is too pretentious to understand the concept of friendship. It is a rather lonely existence.

"How was your day, Sarah?"

"Fine, Miss Disraeli. How was yours?"

"Very relaxing, thank you."

She undoes my bodice and removes it, and begins the arduous task of unlacing my corset and removing the hoop skirt. With that done, she leaves me in my undergarments to change into my nightgown. I remove the chemise and drawers and slip off the heels. I step into the dressing gown. Tonight's is to be a little more revealing, it is a Friday. Fridays always require a more revealing gown for him. This one is a pale lavender that makes my dark brown hair stand out starkly against the fabric. It trails to the floor and ends in soft ruffles, and the cap sleeves reveal my arms. The neckline is low, accentuating my collarbones. I slip a thin white robe over my shoulders and tie it round my waist. This fabric is also thin; it has ruffles at the hem, the ends of the long sleeves, and around the chest. I feel that I look rather attractive. Sarah removes the pins in my hair, allowing the dark curls to tumble down my back.

"That will be all, Sarah."

"Of course, Miss Disraeli. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

She leaves the room, shutting the door lightly behind her. I quickly pinch my cheeks and dab a bit of essence of rose on my wrists and chest. He will be here any moment. After a few more minutes of anxious waiting on my part, a knock sounds on the door. I take a second to collect myself before I open it. There are those green eyes, lighting up when they see me. His blonde hair is not quite as long as I like it to be, but it is getting close. His smile is positively delicious. I open the door a little wider and he enters. I close it behind him.

"Have I ever told you how intoxicating you look in your night clothes?"

I laugh as I shrug out of the thin robe, "Oh, Thomas, how you flatter me."

Thomas grins as he tosses his coat carelessly to the ground. I barely have enough time to drop my robe to the floor before he is on me, pressing a sweet kiss to my lips. I gladly reciprocate, melting into his arms.

"I missed you." he murmurs, green eyes sparking with intensity.

"And I you." I respond, pressing another kiss to his jaw.

He leads me over to my bed. He lays down, pulling me down with him. I curl into him, and his arm wraps around my waist. His fingers comb through my hair and he presses a kiss to my head.

"How was your day?" he asks.

"Fine. Tutor, and an afternoon to myself."

"That sounds pleasant."

"Rather boring, but each day is just the same. How was yours?"

"Considering I spent the day driving your father around, it was rather tiring."

I giggle, and he tightens his arm around me in a hug. He smells like leather and soap, which is oddly relaxing. It only makes me hold him tighter. We only get to see each other once a week for a few hours. Otherwise, he drives our carriage and we pretend not to know each other. I hate that it has to be like this, but I suppose all the time I can get with him is a gift in itself. Our affair is highly illicit, and if anyone were to find out, it would be disastrous.

"How shall we spend our hours this week?" he asks, his voice satirically mocking our situation.

"I chose last time, I believe it is your turn."

"Speaking of, how did that drawing turn out?"

I pull myself from his embrace to walk out of the bedroom to the parlor and my desk. I open the top drawer and pull out the sheet of paper with his likeness. Oh no, I forgot to fix that red smudge! I put my fingernail against the paper, desperately scratching against the line. It starts to disappear, but I know it will never fade completely. Oh well. Last week, I chose to make him sit still so I could draw him. It turned out quite well, if I do say so myself, but we shall see what he thinks. I come back into the bedroom to find that he has taken off his shoes, white shirt, and tie, leaving him in only a thin white undershirt and his black pants. Just the sight of his strong arms and broad shoulders is enough to make me turn red, but I regain control over the flush in my cheeks. I bring him the paper, curling against him again and waiting for his response. He stays quiet. Finally, I look up at him.

"Is this how you perceive me, Jessa?"

The flush I tried so hard to contain comes back in full force at his husky voice.

"Yes." I breathe.

Instead of commenting further, he leans down and kisses me. I kiss him back, positioning myself on top of his body for a better angle. He delicately places the drawing off to the side of the large bed to tenderly run his hands through my hair and cup the back of my neck. A tantalizing feeling unfurls in me as he kisses me. No longer giving a care for propriety, I yank the dressing gown up to my thighs and pull myself up to straddle his waist. My hands slide over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his stomach and chest through the thin material. Finally, we pull away for air.

"Do you like it?" I ask, a hairsbreadth away from his lips.

"I love it." he whispers, pressing another breathtaking kiss to my mouth.

Thomas delicately turns me over so that I am beneath him. He sits up, pulling his shirt over his head. Sitting above me, bathed in moonlight, he looks like a dream. He slowly, tenderly, kisses me again. He leaves my lips and traces a path down my jaw and neck, along my collarbone. I allow my eyelids to flutter closed. His hands explore places of my body untouched by any man before, and I fall in love with him even more.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun beating against my eyelids wakes me. I roll over in bed, sighing happily. What a restful sleep. I rub my eyes, cracking them open against the bright sunshine. I suddenly become aware of a dull pain between my legs, one that instantly transports me back to last night. Thomas. Butterflies flit through my stomach just at the thought of him. After he left last night, I was terrified I would not be able to fall asleep from sheer happiness. He took my drawing with him, folding it up into a small square and tucking it into his breast pocket. I am about to curl back up into the soft sheets and sleep away the pain, but a knock on the door forces me to open my eyes again.

"Come in!" I call, my voice still hoarse from sleep.

Sarah enters the room. Her face creases with worry when she sees that I am still in bed.

"Miss Disraeli, are you feeling well? You're usually awake by this time."

"I am fine, Sarah, thank you. I just had trouble falling asleep last night."

Not technically a lie… She smiles at me, crossing over to the curtains of the room and opening them all the way.

"Any dress in particular you'd like to wear today?"

I remember Mother's request, "That new dress from Paris, the cream colored one?"

Her eyes light with recognition, "It is very beautiful, Miss Disraeli."

I agree with her, she fetches the dress from the armoire. I slowly roll out of bed. That pain between my legs aches with every movement, but I have to be strong. If someone were to suspect, it would not end well. I take a deep breath and stand. Trying hard not to reveal anything, I pull up the drawers and remove my dressing gown. Sarah helps me put on the corset and hoop skirt. She slips the dress over my head. I gaze at myself in the mirror, rather proud of the image before me. My waist looks small and my hips look large, the bustle of the dress is very flattering. The neckline is lower than my other dresses, revealing just enough skin to still be tasteful. The fabric is soft against my skin. Sarah does not pin my hair up so it can fall down my back.

"You look beautiful, Miss Disraeli."

"Thank you, Sarah. I feel beautiful."

"Your mother is waiting for you in the blue reception room."

"Of course."

She opens the door for me and I walk out of the room, adopting my formal posture. Small steps, bouncing off the balls of my feet so my shoes do not click obnoxiously. Straight spine, hips swishing, square shoulders, hands clasped in front of my stomach. Chin up, eyes bright, serene smile. Off to another luncheon, sure to be just as exciting as all the rest. That pain hurts more when I slump, so I suppose it is for the best. It will help me stand straighter. I enter the reception room, warmly lit with the late morning sun. Mother turns as the doors open, and she smiles.

"Our guests are waiting outside, I decided we would take luncheon in the garden. The day is too beautiful to stay indoors."

"I agree."

"Shall we?"

We walk out of the reception room and down the hall, making our way out onto the terrace of the gardens. There are gardeners everywhere, presumably replanting flowers and installing who knows what else Mother designed. We cross the terrace and descend the stairs, walking along the garden path. I know exactly where we are going. Mother keeps a small stone table in a secluded area of the garden, usually only used when our closest friends and family come to dine. We round the corner, and there are two people seated at the table.

The woman rises first, moving very gracefully. The man, however, gets up rather slowly, almost as if meaning to show disrespect. Their attire is rather strange. The woman is dressed in a long trench coat that hugs her figure tightly, I can see her legs rather clearly. Instantly, jealousy swells in my chest. How freeing it must be to wear pants. The man is dressed similarly, in a long trench coat. They have many buckles and holsters all over their clothes, and both have strange looking metal gloves on their left hands. The man is wearing a top hat, which is rather comical considering what he is wearing is no where near proper enough to warrant one. At the same time, though, it suits him. The woman has bright blue eyes and hair that is as dark as mine. There is a spray of freckles across her youthful face. The man is larger than the woman, with hair a few shades lighter. His eyes are a light, honey brown, and they sparkle with mischief. There is a scar running through his right eyebrow, and another down the side of his left cheek.

"Jessamine, darling, may I introduce Sir Jacob Frye, and his sister Dame Evie Frye."

Miss Frye curtsies, Mr. Frye just gives me a small nod. I like Miss Frye, but her brother seems as if he could not care less. Mother completely ignores this, which is strange. Usually she will point out a person's impropriety, as is her way.

"Please, be seated." Mother says.

Miss Frye seats herself, but Mr. Frye walks over to a chair and pulls it out. I stay back to allow Mother to sit first. She sits, elegantly perching on the edge of the chair. He then crosses around the table to the other side, pulling out my chair. I murmur a thank you, and he winks at me. How brash.

"How have you been, Mrs. Disraeli?" Miss Frye asks.

Mother must have know these people before Father became an earl. They do not call her Lady Beaconsfield.

Mother smiles politely as she prepares herself a cup of tea, "I shall be better when we resolve the matter at hand."

What matter at hand? And why did Mother suddenly become so serious? I slowly reach across the table to get a cube of sugar for my tea.

"Of course," Miss Frye says, her eyes flicking over to her brother, "please, tell us what we can do to help."

"I shall get right to the point, then. With the death of Crawford Starrick, London's working class is in an uproar. Many Templar factions are attempting to seize power and prove their superiority. You two have successfully foiled many of their traitorous plots, I hear."

I see Mr. Frye's chest puff up out of the corner of my eye. I cannot say that I am particularly fond of him. I can sense his arrogance from across the table.

"-make sure that nothing happens to her in the face of these threats."

Three pairs of eyes are glued to me, Mother's eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Pardon?"

A snort sounds from Mr. Frye's side of the table, and I feel a blush start to warm my cheeks. I cannot believe I was not listening. How rude of me.

"You've been threatened, Miss Disraeli," Miss Frye says, "by a Templar faction that believes kidnapping the Prime Minister's daughter will bring them into power. Which, I'm sorry to say, is true."

My teacup clatters to its saucer.

"Threatened?"

"Yes, Miss Disraeli. But my brother and I are not going to let anything happen to you. We'll be by your side every waking moment until we're certain the threat has been eradicated. And we have the entirety of England's police force on our side."

"Some grand help they'll be." Mr. Frye murmurs under his breath.

So he speaks. His voice instantly warms me to him, despite his crude behavior. It is dark and rich, with a perfect mix of lower and upper class dialects. I blink to snap myself out of his spell and refocus on Miss Frye's sympathetic gaze.

"Why is this a threat that needs to be taken so seriously? If we are inside Hughenden, why do we not just wait for the threat outside to disappear?"

"Because, Jessamine," Mother says, "there are spies in the manor, according to our sources. You are not safe. The Fryes will be able to protect you if they stay here."

"And what is so _special_ about the Fryes?"

That question comes out a little more harshly than I meant it to, but the magnitude of the situation is starting to sink in. Spies, in my home? There are so many people here it would be impossible to find out who they are. Why would someone want to hurt me?

"What is so special about us, Miss Disraeli," Mr. Frye responds, managing to make my name sound like an insult, "is that we can take on this entire manor and have it cleared in a matter of minutes."

He perspicuously thinks highly of himself. Cleared? What does that mean? This man is infuriating. He is speaking to me as if I am stupid and spoiled, and I cannot stop transfixing myself on his voice! Instead of saying something to embarrass myself, I simply shoot him the most ladylike glare I can muster. He winks at me again.

Miss Frye clears her throat, "What my brother means to say is, our line of work is a little different from a police officer's. Mrs. Disraeli thinks that we would be better suited to the task of protecting you."

I look over at Mother, who is clearly trying to figure out how I feel about the whole situation. I take in a deep breath and blow it out again. If Mother truly does trust them, then I suppose I should, too. If there are people that could hurt me in my home, then I want the best protection possible. It looks like these siblings are my best chance.

"Besides, dear, your father and I will be in the city for a gala until Monday. It will be nice to have the Fryes here to protect you while we're gone, don't you think?"

"Assuming that I do decide to trust you and believe this story, what is our plan?"

Mr. Frye's lips twist into a devilish smirk, "That's more like it."

Miss Frye hurriedly jumps in to make sure her brother does not get the chance to continue speaking.

"Well, my brother and I would be living here at Hughenden for the time being. We would take turns monitoring you and making sure that no harm comes to you. Our first step is to find and eliminate the spy or spies, and then take down the Templar faction as a whole."

"That sounds reasonable, does it not?" Mother asks, flashing me a calming smile.

"Yes. I will graciously accept your help, if you will accept my thanks."

"No thanks is necessary, Miss Disraeli," Miss Frye smiles at me, "it's the least we can do."

"With that out of the way," Mother says, folding her hands, "shall we enjoy our luncheon?"


	3. Chapter 3

I notice that not a single member of staff is here with us. Mother must have truly felt this conversation was for our ears only. I suppose that is necessary, though. The spy could be anyone. Mr. Frye offers to go get the butler, and he makes his way back up the path. I cannot help but become mesmerized by his walk. It is almost predatory, in a way. He disappears around the corner.

The Frye siblings both exude an aura of confidence, of power. I have a feeling that they could truly kill someone if the need arose. Miss Frye casually stirs her tea, bringing it to her lips and taking a small sip. Mother is watching me carefully, but I pretend not to notice. She shouldn't worry about me so much. I feel safe here, especially with the added protection the Fryes will provide.

Mr. Frye appears from around the corner again, a stately butler following in his wake. The butler carries with him a tray of sandwiches, and a few more butlers follow behind him. One with a tray of cakes, another with a crystal bowl of fruits, and several more with various other foodstuffs. Mother clearly does not see a need to impress our guests with food, as there is no second course. We eat in silence.

With the adrenaline of the moment gone, I find my attention returning to the ache between my legs and thoughts of Thomas. Last night was magical, and I only wish I could see him again before Friday. Another thought occurs to me. How am I to see him if the Fryes are watching my every move? I need to find a way to tell him not to come and see me this week. As much as I detest the idea, it is better to be safe than sorry. If we were to be caught… I push those thoughts out of my head, taking a bite of my sandwich instead. Finally, Mother's natural hostess emerges.

"So, tell me. How have you two been spending your time these days?"

As I expected, Miss Frye starts speaking first. It seems that she perpetually has to make sure her brother cannot get a word in.

"We've been running smaller errands around the city, attempting to control the unrest brought on by Mr. Starrick's death. The city is in turmoil, Mrs. Disraeli. We're doing the best that we can, and natural selection will win out eventually. For now, the Rooks are doing a splendid job of controlling gang activity. The larger Templar factions have yet to establish their roots yet, thanks to the Rooks."

"The Rooks?" I inquire.

"That's our gang." Mr. Frye says, his chest again puffing out with pride.

"We are placing our trust in gang leaders?" I ask indignantly, before I can stop myself.

I see Miss Frye visibly cringe, but Mr. Frye just rolls his eyes and pops another cake into his mouth. Mother narrows her eyes at me in a warning glance. What does she see in these people, and why is she so intent on making sure I see it, too?

"Not a gang necessarily," Miss Frye says quickly, "just a sort of militia group. Besides, the Rooks aren't responsible for any of the bad things that happen in this city. The Blighters can take credit for that."

"The Blighters?"

"Our rival gang." Mr. Frye's husky voice clarifies.

I have realized that he is just saying these things in an attempt to upset me. Something that he finds funny, apparently. If Mother can ignore his jabs, then I can, too. In fact, maybe I could even play along. Before Miss Frye gets the chance to fix her brother's comment, I speak.

"And may I inquire as to why you named your _gang_ after a chess piece?"

Mr. Frye looks over at me sharply, seemingly surprised that such words came out of my mouth. He is speechless for a moment, undoubtedly trying to come up with a witty response. Miss Frye speaks before he can, her face lighting up with mirth.

"He named the gang, not I. I always told him that the name was ridiculous."

She and I both burst into a fit of giggles, and I instantly feel closer to her. Mr. Frye rolls his eyes.

"Who are you fooling? You were too busy ogling Greenie to oppose."

Miss Frye's cheeks turn bright red, and she takes a bite of a cake to stifle what must be a stinging retort. Who is Greenie? Mother looks on, her eyes bright with laughter. She really does like these two, I can see it in her gaze.

"Anyways," Mr. Frye starts, "if it's all right with you all, I'm going to give myself a little tour of the grounds. I need to… familiarize myself with the terrain."

Mother speaks, "Jessamine, why don't you go with him?"

Miss Frye earnestly nods her head, "Oh, yes. Can't leave him alone for a minute."

I smile at her. As much as I would rather not like to spend time alone with the egoist, I cannot refuse Mother. And so, I stand. Mr. Frye has the decency to offer me his arm, which I take. Instantly, I am drawn into the incredible strength of his arm beneath mine. I can feel his massive muscles bulging against the fabric, and I immediately focus on the pain between my legs to distract myself from him. Speaking of, it hurts rather badly now that I am up and moving about. I slow my steps, trying to minimize the movement of my hips. We barely make it around the corner before I realize how ridiculous I must look, as rigid as a plank of wood and waddling like a penguin. Mr. Frye notices as well.

"I know that I must seem rather repulsive, but I can assure you I am quite a gentleman," his voice lowers dangerously, "when unprovoked, that is."

A shiver snakes its way down my spine before I can stop it. Why is his voice so alluring to me? I take advantage of his comment to stop walking. Now that I am standing, any movement I make, whether it be walking, leaning, or breathing, sends a throb up through me. It hurts. I let out a stifled breath, not giving a care to come up with a scathing comment to make in response.

"Are you all right?" he asks, finally showing some concern.

"Fine, just fine."

He chuckles, a rich sound that curls my stomach, "Miss Disraeli, with all due respect, you're a bloody awful liar."

A small part of me is grateful for the fact that Mr. Frye does not fall for my lie, but the larger part of me is upset that he is seeing me like this. He already thinks me weak. I manage to make my way over to a stone bench along the wall of the garden. I resist the urge to press a hand to the affected area, that would be highly inappropriate. Instead, I lean my head back against the cool stone wall and take a deep breath.

"Seriously," Mr. Frye says, hesitantly sitting down next to me, "do I need to fetch help?"

"No, thank you. I just need a moment to breathe."

"Oh, I get it. That time of the month, eh?"

The nerve of this man!

"I do not appreciate your disparaging comments, Sir Frye."

That shuts him up. He is quiet for a few moments.

"I apologize, that was out of line. Tell me what I can do to help you."

"It would be very accommodating if you could help me to my room, I should like to lie down for a while."

"Consider it done, Miss Disraeli."

He stands, offering me his gloved hand. I take it, and he pulls me to my feet. I freeze as the pain courses through me again, and then I slowly take a step forward. And then another. This is going to be rather slow going. Mr. Frye puts an arm around my waist to help me, but I do not have enough energy to marvel at the audacity of his touch. He holds me up and allows me to take lighter steps, which is a great help. We steadily make our way through the garden, conveniently bypassing Mother and Miss Frye. We climb the steps and cross the terrace, making it inside the manor. The reprieve from the sunshine calms me. I guide him to my room. He opens the door and helps me inside. I sink onto the window seat, resting my back against the window and puffing out a breath. The pain is rather dizzying. I should not have overworked myself like that. Mr. Frye stands a few feet away, regarding me closely.

"Please, if you could send for Sarah, my lady's maid."

"Of course." he says, making his way back out of the room.

I revel in my solitude for a moment, finally pressing a hand against the sore spot between my legs. It offers some relief, but the ache is truly inside of me, and there is no way to ease that. Suddenly, the door opens. I yank my hand away, pretending to fix my hair. Thomas enters the room, quickly shutting the door behind him.

"Thomas," I gasp, "what are you doing here? It is not safe, Sir Frye could be back any -"

He silences me with a kiss. After a moment, he pulls away.

"I saw him bring you here. Are you all right?"

"I - I am fine. If you must know the truth, last night's effects have not entirely worn off."

A lustful look ignites in his eyes, "I'll never forget that. I'm sorry if it hurt you."

"Do not be sorry! I would do it again if I could."

"Then let's hope you choose wisely this week."

A light goes off in my head, something I needed to tell him.

"Thomas, you cannot come to see me this Friday. I now have round the clock protection from some bodyguards, and they will see you if you come."

"Why do you have bodyguards?"

"Mother's sources have uncovered a plot to kidnap me, and a spy is in the manor!"

He kisses my hand, "Don't worry. I'll be here to protect you. Nothing is going to happen."

"You must go. Sir Frye will be back any moment."

Thomas leans forward and kisses me again, stroking my hair.

"I'll come if it is safe, but until I get to see you again, goodbye."

"Goodbye."

He smiles at me again before slipping from the room, shutting the door behind him. Seconds later, the door bangs open, startling me. Mr. Frye strides into the room. When he sees me in the same place that he left me, he relaxes.

"What was that man doing in here?"

"He saw us coming in, and thought that I was hurt. He was checking on me."

"Dammit, I shouldn't have left you alone. I'm not used to this bodyguard thing yet."

It suddenly hits me why he is so worried. The spy could be anyone. I know that it is not Thomas, but what if someone else had come in instead? Would I have been so trusting? I know I would have.

"You needn't worry, Sir Frye. Thomas is a friend of mine, he would not hurt me."

Jacob rushes forward so quickly my back smacks against the window. His face is inches from mine, his eyes burning so brightly a strange feeling closes around my chest and makes it difficult to breathe.

"You need to be careful who you call a friend, Miss Disraeli. No one in this house can be trusted right now, do you understand?"

His sudden intensity makes me swallow, "I do."

"Good. Sarah is on her way."

"Thank you." I reply meekly.

He starts pacing, occasionally mumbling things that I cannot hear. The door opens, and Sarah comes in. She sees me reclining against the window and rushes to me immediately.

"Oh, Miss Disraeli. Are you feeling all right?"

"I have had better days, in truth. If you could prepare my dressing gown, please."

"Of course, of course."

She rushes over to the armoire, pulling out a soft dressing gown. Mr. Frye continues his pacing, completely oblivious to Sarah and her flustered actions. She eyes him as she helps me to my feet.

"Sir Frye," I start, his head snaps up, "if you could wait in the parlor while I prepare myself for bed?"

"If it's all the same to you, Miss Disraeli, I would rather stay here. I'll turn my back, though, and I'll even close my eyes."

Sarah makes a small indignant noise, but I have become numb to Mr. Frye's behaviors.

"It's all right, Sarah," I say tiredly, "he's my new bodyguard, and he has to stay with me at all times."

She still looks less than convinced, and Mr. Frye makes a point of flashing me a provocative smile before slowly turning away from us. Sarah hastily removes my dress and undoes my corset and hoop skirt. I slip the dressing gown over my head and remove my drawers. Sarah takes all of the clothing and puts it back in its proper place. With a fresh and soft change of clothes, I feel better already. She helps me out of my shoes and jewelry and runs a quick brush through my hair. If she notices my stiffness, she does not say a word.

"I'll inform your mother that you are ill, Miss Disraeli. Get some rest."

"Thank you, Sarah."

She casts one more wary glance at Mr. Frye before she leaves the room. I limp over to my bed, pulling back the sheets and burrowing in. Not having to stand and move about is a great relief, I almost cannot feel the pain. I close my eyes, sighing happily into my pillow.

"Feeling better?"

Mr. Frye's voice sounds rather close. I snap my eyes open to find that he is directly in front of me, crouched on the floor. All I am able to see are his golden eyes and his top hat over the edge of my bed. I can feel sleep pulling at me already.

"Much better. Thank you for your help, Sir Frye."

"Of course. But do me a favor?"

My eyes slip closed, "Yes?"

"Call me Jacob. I'm not one for stuffy titles."

I make a noise of my assent. He is not as bad as I thought he was.

He chuckles, "Get some rest, Miss Disraeli. I'll be here when you wake up."


	4. Chapter 4

When I wake again, it is dark. I roll over in bed, pleased that the ache is significantly less painful. I am about to curl up and fall asleep when a noise stops me. It sounds like… snoring? I slowly sit up, glancing around the black room. A dark shape dominates the window seat. I slip from beneath the covers, creeping closer to the figure. Is it Mr. Frye? It must be, he insisted on staying in the same room. His large frame looks rather ridiculous curled up in the corner of the window seat.

I tiptoe to the end of my bed, picking up the extra blanket folded there. I carry it back over to Mr. Frye. I am unfolding the blanket when his hand shoots out, wrapping in a vice-like grip around my wrist. In a matter of seconds, he has thrown me to the floor and twisted my arm behind my back so tightly it feels as if it will snap. I cry out in surprise and pain, unaccustomed to the feeling of my cheek against cool marble. He straddles my waist, his knees on either side of me.

"Bloody hell. Jessamine? Christ."

He hurriedly gets off of me, picking me up rather than helping me off of the floor. He sets me down on the bed, palpating the injured arm.

"Are you hurt? Shite. I'm so sorry, you surprised me and-"

I giggle tearily, "Oh, I am fine. I apologize for startling you, I should have known better."

I am not entirely sure as to why I am crying, it must be from the shock. My arm is not hurt too badly, but I can tell that he would have broken it if he had not realized it was me.

"Please don't cry. I feel awful."

"I am the one that feels awful! I must have given you a terrible fright."

"You did, but that's by the by. I could have snapped your arm!"

"It would never have happened if I had been more considerate."

"Considerate," he repeats incredulously, "you were about to lay a blanket over me!"

I sniff, "I am sorry. Truly, I am. I was not thinking."

"You're not going to let me take the blame for this, are you?"

I giggle at his dry humor, "No, I am not."

He sighs, "As much as I disagree with that, I'll allow it."

"Thank you, Sir Frye."

"Jacob."

"Jacob," I repeat, the name sounding strange without a title before it, "sorry."

"Stop apologizing!"

"Sorry. Wait! I take it back."

We both laugh, and I feel yet another wall between us breaking down. He pulls back the covers for me and I slide in, bundling up against the chilly air.

"Go back to sleep. Thank you for the blanket."

"Of course. Sorry for startling you."

"Sorry for hurting you."

"Apology accepted."

I smile at him, and he smiles back. He has a nice smile. Mr. Frye, or, Jacob, retreats to the window seat. It warms my heart when I see him pull the blanket over himself as he stretches his legs out in front of him and leans back against the wall. There is no way that position is comfortable, but I cannot exactly share my bed with him.

Who could have guessed that having a twenty four hour bodyguard would be so… interesting.

* * *

When I wake again, daylight is streaming through the windows. My eyes immediately flit to the window seat. It is occupied, but not by Jacob. His sister sits in the sunlight, reading a novel. She looks up as soon as I shift in bed. Her smile is kind.

"Your parents send their love, they left for the gala and didn't want to disturb you. How did you sleep?"

"Fine, thank you. Where is Jacob?"

"He said he had some business in Whitechapel, and asked me to take over for the morning. He'll be back in a few hours, he said. Do you mind?"

"Oh, not at all! I was just curious."

She smiles again before returning to her book. I flop back against the pillows. Thankfully, the ache between my legs has all but disappeared. However, there is a new pain. My arm.

"Dame Frye, if you do not mind my asking, you mentioned that your line of work was different from that of the constables. What did you mean by that?"

She looks up, hesitantly marking her place in the novel.

"I don't know how much Mrs. Disraeli would like me to tell you. Is it all right if I ask her first? I wouldn't want to offend."

Her answer only intrigues me even more. Why would she want to ask Mother's permission first? How odd.

"That is understandable."

"Thank you. Now, what are your plans for today?"

"I do not have any official duties for the day, if that's what you are asking. But, I would like to go out. Is that too much to ask with the current situation?"

If I am to finally have some excitement in my life, I would like to make the most of it.

"It depends on where you would like to go." she responds, leaning back against the window.

"I am not sure, to be truthful."

She laughs, "What about… a picnic in Saint James Park?"

A zing of excitement goes through me, "That is a wonderful idea!"

She stands, placing her book on the window seat, "I'll go tell a butler to make us a basket, and I'll get us a blanket to sit on. I'll need to prepare the carriage, too… Is there anything else you'd like to have?"

"If you could send for my lady's maid, it would be much appreciated. Also, could you maybe mention that it would be splendid if the chef included some almond cakes in the picnic basket?"

Miss Frye grins, "I'll be sure to tell him. I'll be back soon."

"That sounds perfect. Thank you."

She smiles and leaves the room. I sigh happily, rolling out of bed and walking over to the window seat. The day is warm and sunny, it is perfect for a picnic. Subconsciously, my hand travels to my arm. I softly rub the injury, thinking back to the feeling of Jacob pinning me to the floor. It was terrifying, but there was also something… thrilling about it. He was able to wake up and "break my arm" in five seconds. I wish I could do that. But his abilities also worry me. If Jacob and his sister are the experienced killers I am beginning to think that they are, is my situation more serious than I believed it was? I know that there are multiple spies in the manor, according to Mother's informant, but that number could be at most half of the amount of staff here. I still feel safe. The sound of the door opening draws my attention, but I don't want to turn away from the nice sunshine just yet.

"Sarah, I should like to wear a nice day dress. Perhaps blue, something to complement the beautiful sky."

"Don't scream."

That was a male voice, definitely not Sarah. I whip around, where a butler is standing by the now closed door. What sends chills racing up my spine is the pistol he has trained on my head. A sick feeling immediately pools in my stomach. He slowly comes closer, the gun steady in his hand. His finger is resting on the trigger.

"You and I are going to take a walk. There is a carriage waiting for us in the stables. No harm will come to you if you do as I say. Do you understand?"

I meekly nod my head, but on the inside I am trying to figure out how I can save myself. If I scream, he will shoot me. If I follow him, I will be gone. What fate appeals to me more? He creeps closer, lowering the gun and stowing it in his coat. Now is my chance. I just have to hope someone is close enough to hear. I open my mouth and scream as loudly as I can. It reverberates through the room, sounding as panicked as I am starting to feel. The butler is startled, and I scream again. I see him start to reach for his gun, but my feet are frozen to the floor. Terror closes like an icy fist around my throat. I cannot muster up another scream. Seconds later, the sound of shattering glass fills the air. I can feel the shards rain over my skin, thankful for the full body coverage provided by my dressing gown. Suddenly, I can move again. I drop to the floor, feeling glass slice my palm. It stings. I roll onto my back as fast as I can. A flash of metal appears out of the corner of my eye, and the butler lets out a grunt above me. He makes a strange gurgling noise before collapsing on top of me. A warm feeling spreads over my stomach and down my hips.

"Miss Disraeli! Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

It is Miss Frye speaking to me. She shoves the butler off of me, her eyes going wide when she sees me.

"You're bleeding! Did he shoot you? What did he do?"

Dazed, I glance down at my dressing gown. Sure enough, I am positively drenched in blood. Nausea crashes over my head as the warm stickiness soaks through the thin fabric.

"It is not mine." I manage to say, but my voice sounds like a whisper.

Miss Frye looks rather panicked, "Are you hurt?"

"I cut my hand on some glass, but I am not hurt."

"Oh, thank goodness. I should have known better than to leave you alone. It was so lucky that I was outside. I was speaking to a stable boy about how we would be needing a carriage, and I heard you scream… I'm so sorry. I'm not used to this bodyguard role yet."

That sounds rather similar to what Jacob said yesterday. She helps me to my feet. My legs feel like jelly, but I manage to make it to the window seat and sit. The blood against my skin is a less than pleasurable feeling. Miss Frye hardly bats an eye at the blood, instead holding up my palm for her to look at.

"It's not too bad, thankfully. We'll just wrap it up."

She removes a handkerchief from her pocket, quickly and expertly tying it around my hand.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes. I am not hurt."

My eyes stray to the body laying before us, and I quickly look away. I am feeling rather sick. Sarah enters at that moment. She sees the body on the floor and the blood on my dressing gown, and promptly faints. Miss Frye huffs in exasperation.

"Right. I should dispose of him."

She stands, easily hoisting the dead man over her shoulder and disappearing into the parlor. She returns without him. There is a small pool of blood on the floor, but my dressing gown absorbed most of it. Miss Frye takes some water from the pitcher on the sideboard and sprinkles it over Sarah's face. She rouses immediately, head lolling for a moment before she blinks herself awake. When she no longer sees the body, she looks over at me and my dressing gown.

"My goodness. We need to change you, Miss Disraeli."

She shakily gets to her feet with the help of Miss Frye.

"I shall need a wet cloth as well, Sarah." I say, trying to remain strong for her. Miss Frye cannot have two fainting women on her hands.

The maid pales a few more shades, but she disappears into the powder room and reemerges with a cloth. She pours some water from the pitcher into the china bowl and wets the cloth. She hands it to me before helping me get out of the bloody dressing gown. The clothing is bundled and set on the sideboard, and the curtains are drawn over the now gaping window. Sarah sponges away the blood from my chest and stomach. Miss Frye watches with barely disguised horror.

"Oh, Miss Disraeli. I'm so sorry, I feel terrible. I shouldn't have left you alone, it was stupid of me to do such a thing. I understand if you no longer wish to picnic."

"On the contrary, Dame Frye. Sarah, if you could please prepare my blue patterned day dress. I feel it will do me some good to be out of the manor for a while."

Miss Frye nods, clearly happy that I am not taking this too hard. On the inside, however, I am trembling. I could have been killed. She left me alone for not even five minutes, and I could not hold my own. I completely froze! I would not have lasted another few seconds until he regained the upper hand, possibly shooting me. I need to know how to defend myself. Maybe Jacob will teach me. Miss Frye seems too worried about what my mother will think.

"If it's all right with you," Miss Frye says, "I would prefer to have Jacob accompany us for some extra protection. I don't want to take any risks after what just happened."

She eyes the bloodstain on the marble floor and the shards of shattered glass. As much as it annoys me that I cannot protect myself, I wholeheartedly agree with her idea. I do not want that to happen again. Sarah helps me get dressed in one of my favorite dresses, it is pale blue embroidered with white designs, with white edging and dark blue trim. I also select my favorite white lace kid boots and matching pearl necklace. Sarah piles my dark curls into an elegant knot on top of my head with a few strands escaping to frame my face before placing a blue silk hat with lace details over my head.

"Oh, Sarah, you are magical."

She laughs, "Thank you, Miss Disraeli. I always find that a fresh change of clothes bring a fresh change of mood. I'll have someone in here to clean up the mess and dispose of the… body. I'll speak with someone about replacing that broken window."

"My apologies about that." Miss Frye says, clasping her hands in front of her.

"Do not apologize! You saved my life. I am in your debt, truly."

She looks away, blushing.

"I will arrange for you to stay in a separate guest room until the window is fixed, Miss Disraeli."

"Thank you, Sarah. For everything."

"Of course, Miss Disraeli. Please tell me if you need anything else."

She curtsies and leaves the room, bringing the bloodied dressing gown with her to dispose of it properly.


	5. Chapter 5

Miss Frye and I elect to leave the room behind and make our way to the green reception room. I like this room the best because of its view of the countryside. We sit on the window seat, gazing out at the rolling green hills. London is behind us, so the horizon is not thick with smog as per usual. I glance over at her, observing the metal device on her left wrist. I notice a small embroidered circle on her gloved ring finger.

"What is that, on your left finger?" I ask, pointing.

She looks down and smiles, "We cannot wear jewelry while we're working, so I had to embroider the ring onto my glove. I'm married."

"Married! To whom?"

"A wonderful man," she says, her tone turning dreamy, "his name is Henry Green."

"Is that who your brother was referring to when he was speaking of someone named Greenie?"

She laughs, "Yes, that's what he calls him."

"Tell me about him," I say, leaning forward, "what is he like?"

"He's so sweet and kind, and intelligent. And not entirely unattractive."

We both giggle.

"What does he look like?" I ask.

I rarely get to interact with men besides Thomas, so I feel no shame in living vicariously through her.

"He's from India, if you must know. He has the thickest, darkest hair that is absolutely glorious to run one's fingers through, and he has these chocolate eyes that I always get lost in."

I sigh, "I am so jealous of you, Dame Frye."

"Oh please, call me Evie. I think we've surpassed formalities."

"Only if you will call me Jessamine."

"Oh, Miss Disraeli I couldn't! It's too improper."

"Nonsense. You saved my life, and I like to think that we are friends now. It would please me if you called me by my name."

"I can't argue with that, _Jessamine_."

I smile at her, "You have no idea how nice it is to have someone call me that other than my family."

Her smile turns sad, "You don't get to have too many friends, do you? Cooped up in the manor like this so far away from the city?"

I glance away, "It is hard, sometimes. You are the first woman even close to my age I get to spend time with as a real human being. All other nobility is seemingly obsessed with titles and power and money. It often seems as if the world is passing me by whilst I sit in the manor, gazing out at it. Every day is the same. I do not even feel as if I have a true purpose in life. I find this whole world to be rather superficial, where my only role is to get married and have children. I wish you and I could trade places for a day. "

She pats my hand, "Well, I'm happy to be able to be your friend. You're a nice person, Jessamine. I'm happy to have met you."

For some reason, tears spring to my eyes. I quickly blink them away, but not before she notices. She hugs me, patting my shoulder reassuringly, before she pulls away.

"Thank you," I whisper, "for being so genuine and kind to me."

Evie gives me a small smile, "Thank _you_ for being the same."

Suddenly, she freezes. Her face takes on an impish grin, "Jacob, we're not going to gossip about you."

I hear a sigh from behind me. Turning around, I find that Jacob has in fact been hiding behind the open doorway this entire time. How much of that did he hear? That was a very vulnerable discussion, I do hope he will not hold anything against me.

"Sorry. Hearing you gush about Greenie was too priceless."

So he did hear that entire thing. How embarrassing! Evie rolls her eyes and I attempt to match her nonchalance. I feel that I am failing miserably.

"Would you care to accompany us on a picnic to St. James Park? We had a close call this morning, and we felt that it would be best if Jessamine had both of us to look out for her."

Jacob's brows pull together in apprehension, "What happened?"

Evie sighs, "I left her alone is what happened. A Templar got into her room and tried to kidnap her, just as we suspected."

She turns to me, "I never did congratulate you, though, on your survival skills."

"All I did was scream."

"The alternative being you stayed silent and allowed yourself to get kidnapped. You did well."

"Thank you, but you deserve some credit, too. You saved my life."

"It's all part of the job."

"When I save your life, do I get to call you Jessamine, too?" Jacob asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Let us hope that never has to happen again. Start now."

"All right then, _Jessamine_."

The way he says my name is enough to send butterflies through my stomach. I want him to say it all the time. I avoid his teasing gaze as we make our way out of the room. Evie and I walk side by side, and Jacob trails behind. We walk out to the drive where a carriage is awaiting.

"I'll be driving, if you don't mind, Jacob."

He scoffs, "I'm not that bad."

Evie grins, "It would be a shame for Jessamine to lose her appetite before we even arrive."

Jacob rolls his eyes but opens the door to the carriage for me anyways, helping me inside. I settle myself on the bench, fanning my blue skirt out around me. I love this dress. Jacob gets in and shuts the door, settling himself across from me. He looks me up and down as the carriage starts to move. He reaches out and takes my bandaged hand.

"What happened?"

"I cut it on some glass when… You know."

"I'm sorry for not being there. I had some business to attend to."

"So she said."

He seems to realize what he's doing and instantly lets go of my hand. I feel a flush in my cheeks as I tuck my hand into my skirts. We sit in silence for a moment as I work up the courage to ask him the question that Evie silenced earlier.

"Jacob," he looks at me, "when Evie mentioned that you come from a different line of work than that of the police officers, what did she mean?"

He sighs, "I don't really know how much we're allowed to tell you, but… I suppose you deserve to know either way."

He pauses, gathering his thoughts, "Evie and I… we're part of a secret society of sorts. It spans all over the world and many people are involved. It's called the Brotherhood. Our main enemy is the Templars, the group that is trying to kidnap you."

"How do you know how to fight so well?"

He rubs the back of his neck, "I really don't think I'm supposed to be talking about this."

"Please? I want to know."

He pauses again, "The Brotherhood is made up of assassins."

"Assassins? As in, murderers?"

"We're trained to hunt and kill people stealthily. We aide in the betterment of mankind. Ending the life of one can ease the suffering of thousands more. Case in point being Crawford Starrick, of course."

" _You_ were responsible for his death?"

"Yep." he says, a glow of pride illuminating his features, "it's our job to make the world a better place, while no one knows it's us. We don't kill to be evil."

"That's very noble."

"You think so?" he asks, quirking a surprised eyebrow.

I nod, "You don't get credit for your work, yet you do it anyways."

"I suppose you're right, Jessamine. That's a nice way of thinking about it."

I gather the courage for my next question, "Jacob, do you think you could teach me -"

The carriage comes to a halt. Seconds later, Evie opens the door for us. I swallow my question and accept Jacob's offered hand to help me out of the carriage. The day is sunny and bright, the grass is green, and the air smells of flowers. There are many people out today, having picnics or playing games. Evie finds us a spot beneath a massive elm tree. The shade feels nice. She spreads the blanket, and Jacob sets down the basket. We all sit.

"I haven't done this in a long time." Jacob admits, opening the basket.

"It's been awhile." Evie agrees.

Jacob pulls out a bag of small sandwiches and another of the almond cakes I requested. There is also a container of fresh fruit, and one canteen of some chilled water with glasses. Evie assembles plates for the three of us. Beneath the shade of the elm tree, watching people stroll leisurely through the park, it is easier for me to breathe. I feel safe around the Frye siblings. Evie sits with her legs elegantly folded beneath her, daintily picking up pieces of fruit from her plate and popping them into her mouth. She is actively watching the passersby, likely waiting for a threat to reveal itself. Jacob is reclined against the tree trunk, legs stretched out in front of him and one arm behind his head. He is inhaling tiny sandwiches in two bites each. When he runs out of them on his plate, he reaches into the bag. I find myself smiling, watching him wolf them down. He has eaten at least ten by the time his eyes flick up to mine, and he freezes. A smirk spreads over his features.

"Did you want one?" he asks, holding one out to me.

I laugh, "I am fine, thank you. You clearly seem to enjoy them more than I."

"You're correct about that." Jacob grins, throwing it into his mouth.

"Jacob, stop being such a pig." Evie chides.

"What? We need sustenance, too, Evie dear. I doubt those berries are doing anything for your muscle mass. Here," he holds a half-eaten sandwich out to her, "have a sandwich."

She rolls her eyes at him, "You're revolting."

"You love it." he responds, his voice lowering to a delicious growl.

I resist the urge to pinch myself. His voice is stupidly mesmerizing. Why is this happening to me? Evie pointedly pops a strawberry into her mouth before looking away from him again. Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Evie's blue eyes harden and Jacob's sandwich freezes on the way to his mouth. I follow their gazes to find them trained on two men that have entered the park. One of them is rather large and imposing, bald and broad shouldered. The other is shorter, but mean looking. They are both wearing red, which cannot possibly be a coincidence. The men would be unconcerning, if it weren't for their hard gazes directly on us. They are rather far away, and yet, I can feel them breathing down my neck.

"Evie." Jacob murmurs, his tone apprehensive.

"I see them." Evie responds quietly, her gaze having returned to her plate of food.

"Look away, Jessamine."

I obediently drop my gaze, reaching into the bag of almond cakes.

"Jacob, are they still coming?" Evie murmurs.

"Yep." he replies, popping the 'p'.

Not being able to see the men strikes a bit of fear into my heart. Are they going to attack us? That would not be logical on their part, in broad daylight in a very public place? Nevertheless, my hand is shaking as I bring an almond cake to my lips and take a bite. It tastes like parchment. Jacob and Evie both slowly slide their gloves back on, Jacob adjusting his awkward metal bracer. I make a mental note to ask him what it is, if we survive this. Evie's voice is calm and quiet.

"They are between us and the carriage. Jacob, I need you to take Jessamine on a walk, right now. You're a very happy couple. I'll stay back here and pack up the picnic. If they keep coming and start a fight, I can take them out. As soon as I have them occupied, get to the carriage and drive home. I'll meet you back there."

"Come on then, _darling_." Jacob purrs.

I allow myself to take his offered hand, the glove rough beneath my fingertips. I keep my gaze away from the approaching men as he pulls me to my feet. I slip my arm into his, and we start to walk in the opposite direction of the men.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you look in your blue dress?"

His voice is low and calming. Is he pretending, or is he serious? Is he just trying to keep me calm?

"Thank you, Mr. Frye. You are too kind."

Evie's distant voice causes me to briefly stop in my tracks, but Jacob continues to pull me along.

"Pardon me, gentlemen. Are you going somewhere?"

"What's it to you?" a gruff voice responds.

"Get ready," Jacob murmurs in my ear, "when I say, we're going to run to the right and around Evie. She can take them. No matter what you see or hear, do not stop running. Understood?"

I mutely nod, body tingling with anticipation. Suddenly, a gunshot rings out. Jacob is yelling at me to run, but I am frozen to the spot. Did Evie get shot, or did she shoot? Am I about to get shot? I hear his voice, but I cannot move. I hear him curse before my feet are swept out from under me and he is running. I have been thrown over his shoulder, and all I can see is his trench coat flapping behind him and his boots hitting the ground. My hat topples off of my head, left behind in the grass. I want to scream in frustration. I froze again! What is wrong with me? The sounds of clashing metal and disgruntled voices fill the air as Jacob runs us past the melee. People are screaming and running. Suddenly, of all people, Evie's husband flashes into my mind. How does he deal with his wife's occupation? Never knowing if she will return home? Soon enough, the sounds of battle fade behind us.

Jacob drops me rather quickly, throwing open the carriage door and pushing me inside. I fall against the seat as the door slams shut. Seconds later, the horses start off at a full gallop. I am thrown back against the seat, hitting my head on the oriental mirror. I feel dazed, my vision immediately turning fuzzy. The carriage whips around a corner and my head goes with it, knocking against the wood paneled wall. I place a hand to the back of my head and it comes away wet with blood. Lots of blood. No longer giving a care for decorum, I wipe my bloody fingers on the carriage seat and drop to the floor, curling up in a ball to try and protect myself. A horrid headache is pounding at my temples, and I can feel the blood coating my hair. My surrounding have become unfocused, and no amount of blinking can fix it. The carriage turns sharply again, and my head throbs. Suddenly, a gunshot rings out once more. Three are returned, much louder. I hear a horse bray, and the carriage is rammed by another one. It jolts violently to the side, I hear the sound of splintering wood. More gunshots ring out. We are not rammed again; the world falls silent. The back of my head is warm and wet, and I am starting to feel even more light headed and nauseous. Are we going to get through this? I trust Jacob, but these men are more ruthless than I could have imagined. I send up a silent prayer. The carriage turns sharply again, and I slide backwards. My head connects with the wooden base of the seat, right where the mirror punctured my skin. The pain is blinding, and I quickly lose consciousness.

 ** _hello and welcome to becoming fire! i hope you enjoyed the first installment, i'm rather excited about this story and i really hope you are too! stick around! please leave a review and let me know what you thought! i'll see you soon with a new chapter or two :)_**


	6. Chapter 6

"Jacob Frye, for the love of God. I told you you're a bad driver! Look what you've done, you dolt."

"Relax! She's fine! She's breathing, isn't she?"

"You are _so_ lucky Mrs. Disraeli isn't here. If she saw her daughter like this, she would have us fired on the spot."

I can hear Jacob's teasing laugh, "Oh yes. This is definitely a job. We're not even getting paid!"

"Why does that matter!" Evie shouts, "it is our duty to protect the innocent, Miss Disr- er, Jessamine, being one of them."

"And we did protect her! She just got a bit banged up."

"A head wound, Jacob. A head wound. She could have died! We should have done better."

"It's not our fault those bastards are more interested in her than we thought! Now we know, and it won't happen again."

"How do you know that?" Evie asks, her voice cold and resigned.

There is silence. I can feel the softness of sheets, and the lace of a dressing gown. My body hurts. I open my eyes only to slam them shut again. What is that light, and why is it shining directly into my eyes? Much, much slower this time, I open my eyes just a crack. The light is blinding, it makes my head pound once more. I manage to roll over, burying my face in the pillow.

"Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakens," Jacob purrs, "how are you feeling?"

"Turn the lamp off." I moan into my pillow.

"What-"

"The drapes." Evie hisses.

"Oh."

I hear the thud of boots, and the distant sliding of the curtains. I feel the bed move as someone sits down on it.

"Is that better?" Evie's gentle voice asks.

I hesitantly roll over and crack my eyes open again.

"Much better."

I wince as my head touches the back of the pillow, rolling onto my side instead. Evie's smile is sympathetic. Jacob is hovering behind her, looking uncertain about what to do with himself. Slowly, memories trickle back. I raise a hand to the back of my head, tentatively prodding the wound. I find it covered by a bandage.

"Luckily, your external injuries aren't too serious. You hit your head on the corner of the mirror, which, in addition to cutting you, may have given you a mild concussion. Your sensitivity to light is another indication."

I am still busy feeling the bandage around my head. Concussion? I have never had it before.

"Is concussion curable?"

Evie chuckles, "Of course they are. They've only recently become diagnosable thanks to modern medicine, so we don't know much. But I do know that with a lot of rest, the symptoms disappear in a few days to a few weeks, depending on the severity. Your cut isn't too bad either, I don't think you'll need stitches. I should like to check your wound, though. Could you roll onto your stomach please?"

I comply, rather slowly, and she unwinds the bandage from around my head.

"Well, it's not as bad as I thought it was…"

"But?" Jacob asks, his heavy boots announcing his approach to my bed.

"But, you still haven't stopped bleeding. In hindsight, we probably should have given you a stitch or two. I don't nearly have the materials required, so we'll just have to wait for it to stop."

That sounds unpleasant.

"On the bright side, the bleeding has slowed. It should stop soon. Jacob, fetch me new bandages, if you please?"

Jacob's boots thud away, there is a sound of a buckle being undone and redone, and his boots come back. Evie thanks him and proceeds to wind the bandage around my head. My head is starting to feel rather heavy. I lay it down on the pillow.

"Jessamine? Are you feeling well?"

"My head is heavy." I say to my pillow.

"Another sign," Evie observes, "you definitely have a concussion. Please, go back to sleep. We'll be waiting when you wake up."

I am all too happy to comply with her request, but a knock on the door interrupts. Jacob's boots go to the door and it is opened.

"Can I help you?"

"I just wanted to see if Miss Disraeli was feeling better."

I know that voice. Thomas. I try to lift my head, but it feels as if it weighs one ton and is stuffed with cotton.

"She isn't taking any visitors right now." Jacob says, his tone cold.

"Can you at least tell me if she's all right?" Thomas asks, his voice seeming to ask Jacob for a challenge.

"I could."

"Oh, for God's sake," Evie groans, moving to the door, "she's doing fine, Sir. She just needs rest."

Thomas's voice sounds a lot calmer, "Thank you, Miss. Would it be all right if I came in?"

"I told you she wasn't taking any visitors." Jacob growls.

"Let him in." I manage to say, my voice sounding rather weak.

Evie turns to me, her eyes glinting with suspicion, "Are you certain?"

"I am certain. Please, leave us alone for a minute. I shall scream if anything happens."

That appeases her. She somehow manages to get Jacob out of the room, and Thomas enters. His eyes take in the bandage around my head and he rushes to me, kneeling beside the bed.

"Oh, Jessa. Are you all right?"

"I have been better." I answer, his bright green eyes lifting my mood considerably.

He manages a small smile, "I was so worried about you. The carriage came tearing up the drive. That man barely halted the horse before leaping down and tearing open the door, and I knew something was wrong. And then he cursed so loudly I swear the entire manor heard him, and he pulled something out of the carriage. It was you. I swear Jessa, my heart stopped. I tried to go to you but he kept me away, rushing you inside. I was so worried, I thought you -"

I silence him with a kiss, which he gladly reciprocates.

"I'm so glad you're okay."

"As am I. I am sorry they kept you away. They have been told not to trust anyone."

"Understandable, I suppose. Who's the cad?"

I giggle, causing my head to throb, "That is Jacob. He is not that bad, I promise. Jacob can be a little scary if you do not know him."

Thomas makes a sound similar to a growl, "You think him capable of keeping you safe?"

"I do. He is very good at… what he does."

"Well, I suppose I can't object then can I?"

I raise a hand to stroke his hair, "Thomas, you worry too much. I am safe with them."

"What are you talking about," he asks indignantly, "you came home from a picnic unconscious with a head wound!"

"When I could have ended up dead or kidnapped! They did their job well."

He heaves a sigh, "You're right, of course. I apologize. I just dislike not being able to see you at all. I miss you."

"I miss you too. Just know that I'm safe."

There is a knock at the door, and Thomas quickly stands so as not to look indecently close to me. Evie pokes her head around the door.

"Sir, Miss Disraeli really needs her rest. Can I ask you to come back another time?"

"We were just finished. Thank you for allowing me to stay."

Evie smiles at him, ushering him out of the room, "Of course."

She and Thomas leave, Jacob entering the room. His eyes look over me, checking for any injuries. Satisfied, he offers a small smirk.

"I'm to look after you for the rest of the day. You should sleep."

"I suppose I can try."

I lower my head to the pillow and tug the covers over my head to further block out the light. I hear him cross the room and sit down in the armchair. Soon, the only sound in the room is the steady interval of a page being turned. Is he reading? He must be. We're alone again, maybe now I can ask him the question I wanted to in the carriage. I uncover my head. He glances up at me.

"Jacob?"

"Hm?"

"I, uh, I was wondering if maybe, if it is not too much trouble of course…"

He marks his place in the book, his eyes glittering with laughter at my discomfort.

"Yes?"

"Well, naturally we do not want anything that happened today to happen again, but if I am ever alone and something like that _does_ happen…"

"Which it won't." he says, leaning back in the chair and regarding me with a smirk.

"Right. Of course. But if it did, would it not be prudent to," I gather a quick breath of courage, "teachmehowtodefendmyself?"

His eyebrows raise, causing that scar to stretch, "You're saying you want to learn to fight?"

"If it is not too much trouble, that is." I add, looking away from his amused stare.

"A lady doesn't fight." Jacob says.

"A lady whose life is not in danger does not fight," I correct him, "but I want to be able to defend myself if I ever need to."

"Are you seriously considering swapping petticoats for pants?"

"That would be the best part," I blurt before I realize what I am saying, "have you any idea how cumbersome those skirts are?"

He chuckles, "No, and I have no desire to find out."

"That is besides the point. Evie is a lady, and she knows how to fight."

"Evie has never been a lady. A lady is demure and weak, and Evie is not."

"And yet you call me a lady?"

He rolls his eyes, "Because you are a lady. Of course, we could remedy that."

"Never have I heard of femininity referred to as a disease."

"You've never met an assassin."

"Until now. Please, will you teach me?"

He draws in a breath and lets it out in a long sigh, "You need to get better first."

"And then?"

"And then, I'll see what I can do."

I grin at him, "Oh, thank you! I cannot wait!"

"I only have one question for you, though."

"Anything."

"Would you be able to take a life?"

The question takes me by surprise. Would I? Would I be capable of killing someone?

"If someone was hurting me or someone that I love, then yes."

"And if they weren't hurting someone that you love? What if they were hurting someone that you didn't know, but was an innocent?"

"Then of course I would help. But death would be the last resort."

He shakes his head, "Ah, young blood. Always trying to find a way around it. Let me tell you something, Jessamine. When you do what I do, you lose track of how many people you've killed and what the reasons for killing them were. All you know is that it had to be done. You can't let it get to you."

"But - but maybe they had a family. Maybe their family depended on them to come home and bring them money to live. How could you kill them?"

"You said it yourself. If a person was hurting you or someone that you love, you would kill them. You're not going back on that, are you?"

"No, I am not. But what if they did not deserve it?"

"There's another thing you need to know," he leans forward, eyes glinting, " _everyone_ deserves it."

 ** _hi! welcome back! i hope you enjoyed this chapter, things are just getting started... ;P hello and welcome to my newest followers: Kongfangxiong00, KreoLite, liam4401, and NoxNightKing! i'm so glad you guys are enjoying the story so far. if you enjoyed, please consider following/favoriting (is that a word?) this story, and leaving a review! i would love to know what you think of jessa and the frye twins, and what you think is going to happen next. i'll see you soon!_**


	7. Chapter 7

Jacob made me go to bed and refused to answer any more of my questions. I fell into a fitful sleep. When I wake up, Jacob is reclined in the armchair, reading a book. A poetry book. A poetry book? No, that cannot be right. Jacob reading _poetry_? I lean a little closer, reading the title again. _A Collection of Poems_. Yes, he is reading poetry. I watch him for a little while, the light of the window illuminating his eyes, seeming to make him glow.

"Are you going to say something, or just continue to stare at me?"

His voice breaks me out of my trance, but I find that his eyes are still glued to the book. I stare at him, trying to decide if he really did speak. After a moment, his eyes snap up to meet mine.

"Jessamine, darling, staring is rather impolite."

A blush immediately warms my cheeks as I drop my gaze to the pillow.

"Sorry. I just… Poetry? Why poetry?"

"I believe the better question is, why _not_ poetry?"

I lay back down on the pillows, looking at him. His mouth is curved into a charming smirk, his eyes twinkling in the way that they do when he teases me. He begins to read aloud. His voice is husky yet soft, tender but firm.

"A magic moment I remember: I raised my eyes and you were there, a fleeting vision, the quintessence of all that's beautiful and rare. I pray to mute despair and anguish, to vain the pursuits world esteems, long did I hear your soothing accents, long did your features haunt my dreams."

His deep tones are enough to make my eyes flutter closed as I lay there, the sound of his voice washing over me.

"Time passed. A rebel storm-blast scattered the reveries that once were mine, and I forgot your soothing accents, your features gracefully divine. In dark days of enforced retirement I gazed upon grey skies above with no ideals to inspire me. No one to cry for, live for, love. Then came a moment of renaissance, I looked up - you again are there. A fleeting vision, the quintessence of all that's beautiful and rare."

A silence sits heavily in the room. A strange feeling unfurls deep inside of me. It is a warm feeling, a good feeling. I open my eyes again to find him staring at me. His eyes are dark and charged with electricity.

"Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving mine, "did you like it?"

"I loved it." I respond, my voice sounding rather breathless.

His eyes snap away from mine and back to the book. He turns the page.

"I met her as a blossom on a stem, before she ever breathed, and in that dream the mind remembers from a deeper sleep: eye learned from eye, cold lip from sensual lip. My dream divided on a point of fire; light hardened on the water where we were; a bird sang low; the moonlight sifted in; the water rippled, and she rippled on."

I can't help it, my eyes slide closed once again. His voice, those low octaves… It is hypnotic.

"She came toward me in the flowing air, a shape of change, encircled by its fire. I watched her there, between me and the moon; the bushes and the stones danced on and on; I touched her shadow when the light delayed; I turned my face away, and yet she stayed. A bird sang from the center of a tree; she loved the wind because the wind loved me. Love is not love until love's vulnerable. She slowed to sigh, in that long interval. A small bird flew in circles where we stood; the deer came down, out of the dappled wood. All who remember, doubt. Who calls that strange?"

His inflection changes, soaring high and flying low. I do not believe I have ever been so moved by a poem before.

"I tossed a stone, and listened to its plunge. She knew the grammar of least motion, she lent me one virtue, and I live thereby. She held her body steady in the wind; our shadows met, and slowly swung around; she turned the field into a glittering sea; I played in flame and water like a boy and I swayed out beyond the white sea foam; like a wet log, I sang within a flame. In that last while, eternity's confine, I came to love, I came into my own."

He pauses, his voice darkening impossibly further, "Theodore Roethke."

A fire ignites deep inside of me, licking up the sides of my stomach. I have to fight to keep my expression under control as I open my eyes again. I do not know what this feeling is, but I like it. I can feel the tension in the air. His eyes are dark, and a small smirk is tugging at his lips. He looks devastatingly handsome. The fire burns hotter. He does not even ask for my opinion, he just turns the page.

"There is none, O none but you, that from me estrange the sight, whom mine eyes affect to view, and chained ears hear with delight. Other beauties others move: in you I all graces find; such is the effect of love, to make them happy that are kind. Women in frail beauty trust, only seem you fair to me: still prove truly kind and just, for that may not dissembled be. Sweet, afford me then your sight, that, surveying all your looks, endless volumes I may write, and fill the world with envied books: which, when after-ages view, all shall wonder and despair-woman, to find a man so true, or man, a woman half so fair. Thomas Campion."

Jacob's eyes mirror the fire inside of me as he gazes at me. We do not speak. We do not need to. He turns the page.

"If you're ever going to love me, love me now; while I can know all the sweet and tender feelings which from real affection flow. Love me now, while I am living; do not wait till I am gone and then chisel it in marble — warm love words on ice-cold stone. If you've dear, sweet thoughts about me, why not whisper them to me? Don't you know 'twould make me happy and as glad as glad could be? If you wait till I am sleeping, ne'er to waken here again, there'll be walls of earth between us and I couldn't hear you then. If you knew someone was thirsting for a drop of water sweet, would you be so slow to bring it? Would you step with laggard feet? There are tender hearts all round us who are thirsting for our love; why withhold from them what nature makes them crave all else above? I won't need your kind caresses when the grass grows o'er my face; I won't crave your love or kisses in my last low resting place. So, then, if you love me any, if it's but a little bit, let me know it now while living; I can own and treasure it."

His eyes flick back to mine, the fire is burning out of control. I could sit all day and be caressed by his voice. He turns the page. The door bangs opens suddenly, Evie entering the room.

"Hello, you two! I'm here to join you. Mr. and Mrs. Disraeli just arrived home and will be here any moment, and we can discuss our plan with them. I told them all about what happened these past few days."

The tension in the room snaps like a rubber band. I quickly avert my gaze from Jacob's, trying my hardest to extinguish the fire in me.

"Good. Jessamine just woke up." Jacob says, glancing over at me.

Just woke up? I try to catch his eye, but he looks away. He clearly doesn't want Evie to know about the poems, but why not? We were not doing anything wrong. Evie takes a seat on the bed and begins to unwind my bandage.

"How is your head doing?"

"I feel much better, thank you. I still feel a little dizzy, and the cut hurts."

"That's all very normal. You'll be in tip top shape if you rest today and tomorrow."

"What is the plan?"

Evie glances over at Jacob, who has glued himself to the pages of the book again.

"Well, Jacob and I were thinking of taking you with us. We can keep you from the spies to lead them away from your estate, and they don't know where our home is, so you'll be able to disappear."

I dislike the notion of leaving home. But at the moment, I could hardly call this place home with someone inside trying to kidnap me.

"That is a good idea."

"Why thank you. It's a shame it took you getting a concussion for us to figure it out."

We both giggle, and Evie does not replace the bandage. That must mean my cut is no longer bleeding, which is good. She pats my leg before standing and making her way over to Jacob.

"Poetry. Really, brother?"

"Just cultivating my appreciation of the arts." Jacob says caustically, still refusing to look up.

Evie's eyes narrow for a moment. She knows something is wrong, too. But she clearly decides to ignore it, sitting down in the chair opposite him. I lay back against the pillows, evaluating my injuries. My head is not pounding anymore, and I am not nearly as sensitive to the sunlight. Evie was right, of course. Concussion is curable. The three of us sit in silence as the minutes tick by. Soon enough, a soft tap on the door finally draws Jacob's attention from the book of poems. The door opens, and Mother bursts into the room, Father trailing in her wake.

"Oh, Jessamine! How are you feeling, darling? What a horrible ordeal!"

Mother makes her way over to the bed, sitting down and pulling me in for a hug. Her perfume is a welcome scent. I melt into her embrace for a moment as she peppers me with kisses.

"I'm so pleased you're all right. What ruffians."

She finally lets me go, and Father takes her place. His hug is just as affectionate. I do not get to see him often, but he always makes sure I know I am loved.

"How are you feeling, Jessa?"

"Much better, thank you. Evie has taken good care of my head."

"That's good to hear."

Evie clears her throat, and the three of us turn to her. She smiles at them.

"As you know, this weekend has been a tumultuous one. This group is much more interested in Miss Disraeli than we thought, and we underestimated them. So, Jacob and I have come up with a plan. We'd like to keep Miss Disraeli with us in our home for a short while, with the hopes of getting the spies out of your home and allowing Miss Disraeli some time to disappear. We'll maintain the ruse that she has gone to stay with cousins in Kent."

Mother and Father glance at each other, a silent understanding passing between them.

"If it's what will keep our daughter safe," Father says, gazing down at me, "then by all means."

Evie's smile widens, "Perfect. We'd like to leave as soon as possible, after Miss Disraeli has had time to pack her things."

"Could you give us a moment alone, please?" Mother asks.

"We'll prepare the carriage."

The Frye siblings make their way from the room, closing the door lightly behind them.

"Do you believe this will work, Jessa?" Father asks.

I nod, "It is a good idea. I can remain hidden for a while, and I feel very safe with Jacob and Evie."

He pauses for a moment. He seems to make up his mind, and nods his head.

"Very well. We will miss you."

"I will miss you, too. I should pack. Could you send for Sarah, please?"

"Certainly. We love you, Jessamine." Mother says.

After we exchange our kisses goodbye, they leave the room. Minutes later, Sarah arrives. We pick a dark green travel dress, rose and leaf covered hat, and brown kid boots. She brushes my hair, carefully avoiding the wound on the back of my head. Then we select dresses and dressing gowns for the trip. Once the trunk is packed, she pulls me in for a tight hug.

"I'll miss you, Miss Disraeli. Be safe."

"I will be. Goodbye, Sarah."

Jacob arrives to carry the heavy trunk. Of course, he makes it look as if he is carrying a bundle of feathers. We make our way out of the manor in silence. I want to ask him about his secrecy with the poems, but it does not seem like the right time. Evie is waiting by the carriage. Jacob swings my trunk up into the carrier, and then opens the door for me. I step inside, choosing the seat opposite the gold mirror this time. He steps into the carriage beside me and Evie snaps the reins. I gaze out the window at the manor. I shall see it again soon. I did not get to say goodbye to Thomas! Oh, he will be worried sick. It is too late now, we cannot go back.

"Something on your mind, Jessamine?" Jacob's voice yanks me from my thoughts of Thomas.

"No, nothing at all."

 ** _hi! back again! sorry it took me a little while to update, i've been rather busy. thank you to those that have followed/favorited (yep that's definitely a word) the story, i really appreciate your support! if you enjoyed, i'd love it if you'd do the same! please feel free to leave a review and let me know what you think so far :)_**


	8. Chapter 8

The carriage ride is painfully quiet. Whatever was between us this morning, Jacob seems content to ignore it. I glance at him, and find him gazing out the window. It gives me a moment to take him in, even though he probably knows I am watching him. He knew earlier. I have no idea what came over me this morning, but I do know I have never felt that feeling before. It was like… what I feel when I am with Thomas.

"You're staring." Jacob says.

I snap my eyes forward again, "Sorry. I - sorry."

"Are you feeling all right?"

"Fine. Absolutely fine."

"Jessamine, we've already established that you're a terrible liar. Care to tell me the truth?"

If earlier was not the right time to talk to him about our poetry reading, now is definitely not the right time.

"It's nothing. Just… thinking."

"About?"

"Things?"

"What sort of things?"

"Thingy… things."

He chuckles, finally turning to look at me. That teasing spark is in his eyes… The feeling that attacked me this morning comes back full force. It is almost enough to make me squirm in my seat. I look away from him, a blush igniting my cheeks. Why does he have such a strange influence over me?

"Jessamine, you are most definitely thinking about something."

"Yes, I am." I say, stubbornly crossing my arms.

"And are you going to tell me?"

"No."

"And why is that?"

"Because… I do not… really know what to say."

Jacob falls silent. I risk a glance out of the corner of my eye, and I find his gaze trained on me. I quickly look forward again, but he has noticed my wandering eyes.

He chuckles, "Now I'm interested."

My blush deepens, which I suspect he also notices. How am I supposed to tell him that I am feeling these strange feelings that I cannot understand, but that they are somehow comparable to the things I feel when I am with my secret lover? How do I make that sound passably normal? I cannot.

"Come on, tell me." he murmurs, leaning even closer to me.

I slide away from him as subtly as I can, but I cannot move far until I hit the wall.

"Jacob Frye, begging?" I ask, attempting to sound coy.

"If that's what you want me to do…" Jacob purrs into my ear.

Why on Earth is he able to affect me like this? I feel like a fire is being stoked deep inside of me, and yet chills are creeping up my arms. I am very aware of his overwhelming presence slowly sliding itself closer to me. I have a horrible feeling that he knows exactly the effect he has on me.

"Can you tell me now?"

"I told you," I respond, my voice sounding soft and breathless, "I do not know what to say."

"Or is it that you don't want to say anything?"

His voice is barely above a whisper, and yet it is echoing through my ears as if he shouted it. His face is so close to mine, all I would have to do is look over at him and our lips would touch. Just the thought raises the heat of the fire inside of me. The carriage has suddenly become rather hot, the walls are closing in…

"Jacob, I -"

The carriage comes to an abrupt halt, and I hear the familiar sounds of Evie climbing down from the box. I do not even wait for her to open the door. I lean forward and yank the handle, shoving the door open and stumbling onto the cobblestones. Evie steps backwards to avoid getting hit with the door, catching my arm to stop my plummet to the ground.

"Are you all right?" she asks, chuckling at my rather ungraceful exit.

"Just fine."

The fresh air cools my cheeks and extinguishes the fire. I feel like I can finally breathe. Jacob exits the carriage behind me, looking as unruffled as ever. How can he do that? I feel as if I have just run from London to home and back again, and he has not even a hair out of place.

"Betsy should be pulling in in five minutes time. We can make it if move quickly." Evie says, smiling at us with a curious expression in her eyes.

Betsy? Jacob takes my trunk from the back of the carriage, again making it look as if it weighs nothing. Which, of course, draws my attention to his muscles. Which, of course, reignites that delicious warmth. I can never win. I snap my eyes away and train them on Evie instead, who smiles at me, and begins to lead me inside the building.

"Welcome to Whitechapel Station, Jessamine." a voice purrs in my ear.

I resist the urge to swat him away. Whitechapel Station. We are in Whitechapel! I have never been to inner London. I only come to London once a year, when our family attends the Annual Parliamentary Gala. Even then, it is a carriage ride in, twenty steps into the ballroom, and a carriage ride out. I have never gotten to experience the city before, let alone Whitechapel.

The smell of the city hits me first. It smells… musky. I can detect smoke, and something a little more pungent. There is a scent that smells vaguely of metal. And yet, I do not dislike any of it. London smells exactly as I expected it to. The brick building looming over us is not astoundingly tall, but it still casts quite an impressive shadow. The brick is weathered yet cheerfully red. My eyes trace over the arches and pillars of the stone and brick, taking in the peaks of what looks to be a roof made entirely of glass.

My trance is broken by a sharp hit on my right hip. I stumble to the side as the man rushes past me, throwing an apology over his shoulder. I am jostled again as a woman brushes by, not even offering an apology. Suddenly, I am surrounded by people. I cannot see more than clothing and parasols, and unfeeling faces. No one looks at me, and no one appears to be friendly.

"Evie?"

I spin in a full circle, all of a sudden very aware of how alone I am. Jacob and Evie have completely disappeared, and I have been swallowed by a sea of people.

"Jacob!"

They are no where to be found. All right, deep breaths. We were going to ride a train, so the natural course of action would be to try and find the train, and hopefully Evie and Jacob with it. Gathering my skirts into one hand, I attempt to move forward but am immediately cut off by a stream of people. I move to the right, but run into another man. A grunt of annoyance is all I receive.

I am prepared to surrender when Evie's voice echoes in my head. _I never did congratulate you, though, on your survival skills._ My survival skills. Evie has faith in me. If I want Jacob to teach me to defend myself, I have to show him that I can at least navigate a crowd. Squaring my shoulders, I dive into the throng. Something amazing happens. I am swept up into the rush of people, trailing behind the man in front of me and weaving through the crowd. Keeping my eyes wide open for any sign of Jacob or Evie, I follow the man inside. The crowd begins to thin out. I make my way into the heart of the station, following the flow of people.

Suddenly, the dim brick halls open up into a massive room. The ceiling, as I suspected, is made of glass panels to let in the light. The station is huge and exploding with all different kinds of people. A train pulls away, puffing smoke into the air as it slowly speeds up and glides smoothly down the tracks. Minutes later, another takes its place. I wonder where it is going. Which train are we supposed to take? I have never been on a train before. Do I just wait for Jacob and Evie to find me? Stay put? That seems so inefficient.

"Jacob?" I call out again experimentally.

A flash of black above me draws my attention to something large falling from the sky. Who should land on the ground? None other than Jacob Frye.

"You called?" he asks, a Cheshire grin gracing his features.

"But you… You just…"

"Close your mouth, love. You're too beautiful, someone will take advantage." he smirks at me.

The nerve! My mouth snaps shut. Despite the fact that I am in complete awe of his drop from at least fifteen feet above my head, I choose to not give his ego a stroke. _Did he just call me beautiful?_

His sister melts from the crowd, her face painted with relief.

"Oh, thank goodness! I turned around and you weren't there. What happened?"

"I, uh, got a little caught up in the moment. I have never been to Whitechapel."

"Of course you haven't! How could I have been so stupid? We need to be keeping a better eye on you."

Evie turns to her brother, "I'll run ahead and see if I can stall Betsy, but we're due to leave in twenty seconds. Please hurry!"

With that, she turns and darts into the throng of people and immediately disappears from view.

"Now enough about your pretty mouth and the things I'm sure it's capable of," Jacob murmurs, "we have a train to catch. Do keep up."

And the things it is capable of? What does that mean? I do not have time to mull it over, Jacob abruptly grabs me by the arm and pulls me towards the tracks. I stumble along behind him, his long legs covering much more distance than mine, hindered by petticoats and heeled boots.

"Can't you go any faster?" he calls from ahead, but I can hardly hear him over the whistle of a train.

"Shite! We're going to miss it!" Jacob shouts, breaking into a run.

It is all I can do to try to keep up. A plume of smoke rises from the train's smokestack.

"Bloody hell, Jessa! Can't you run any faster?"

"I am trying!" I pant, tripping over my skirts again.

We make it to the back of the train just as it begins to move. In one swift movement, Jacob turns around and grips my waist, picking me up and swinging me onto the caboose of the train. I almost lose my balance but grip the side of the railing to right myself. Jacob lands beside me as the train suddenly lurches to a halt. I lose my balance again, falling right into him. His arms encircle me immediately. I regain my sense of balance, but I find myself not wanting to pull away. We stay there for a moment. Jacob's arms briefly flex around me before he lets go.

"You all right?"

"I'm all right."

"Good. Let's go inside."

He makes a sweeping gesture for me to go first, so I do. The caboose is dimly lit and cool, a reprieve from the sunshine. My trunk is already inside, it seems the siblings made it all the way to the train before they realized I was missing. I am almost tackled by Evie.

"You're okay! I made it right when we started to move, that's why there was that awful lurch. Is your head all right? Are you hurt?"

"No, thankfully. Just a little shaken."

"I'm so sorry your first experience in London was so harrowing."

"It is quite all right, a little adventure does wonders for one's health, I hear."

Evie and I laugh, I even hear a chuckle from Jacob.

"I'll go tell our conductor it's all right to start moving again," Evie says, already backing towards the door, "Remember, Jessamine, don't overexert yourself. Your head can only take so much, and I doubt your run to the train helped at all. Jacob, will you show her around?"

"Of course."

I turn to face him and am met with his usual gaze of intensity. His mouth quirks up on one side in a smirk as a train whistle pierces the air. The wheels beneath us start to churn again, and I am thrown forward once more. I catch myself and regain my composure as Jacob's hands find their way to my elbows. He pulls me up and into him. Our sudden closeness sends a flurry of butterflies through my stomach.

"We'll work on your sense of balance, hm?"

 _ **hello again! hope you enjoyed! if you did, please don't hesitate to follow, favorite, and/or leave a review! xoxo**_


	9. Chapter 9

"This is the caboose. Not much to see, we store a lot of our supplies and weapons here." Wooden crates and shelves surround me, and I can see stores of bullets, vials, and syringes, to name a few. I follow Jacob to the next car, towards the sound of raucous voices that I can hardly hear over the sounds of the train. He hops over the gap between the cars without a thought, but the sight of train tracks flying by beneath my feet causes me to pause. He senses I am no longer behind him, and he turns. A surprisingly kind smile graces his features.

"Oh, Jessa. Give me your hands, and on the count of three, jump. Can you do it?"

"Yes, I think so."

If he can do it, I most certainly can! I will show him what a lady is.

"One, two, three!"

I jump and he tugs me the rest of the way across the gap. I land safely in his arms and he releases me. My palm aches a little when he grabs me, but I shake off the pain. We continue forward.

"Oi, Mister Frye! Good to see ya! Come have a drink wiv' us - oh, hello there."

I emerge from around the corner to see a group of people seated in a booth. Three men and two women, all wearing shirts and accessories in various shades of green and yellow. The women are wearing pants, which only intensifies my desire to wear them myself.

"Rooks, may I present Miss Jessamine Disraeli. She'll be staying with us for some time. I expect your best behavior."

I manage a shy wave from behind Jacob, and they all incline their heads politely.

One of the women extends her hand for a shake, "It's nice to meet you, Miss Disraeli. Have a drink wiv' us later, aye?"

I nod as I release her hand, and follow Jacob to the next car. They immediately rekindle their conversation as Jacob helps me across the gap in a similar manner as before.

"That was the dining cabin, you can spend as much time there as you like. They don't bite."

I giggle as I survey this room. A massive space of the wall seems to be devoted to a strange map, red string connecting sketches of people and various newspaper articles. A woman seated at a desk stands when she sees us, smiling at me.

"Hello, dear. Mr. Frye, you didn't tell me she'd be so pretty!"

"You are too kind! My name is Jessamine."

"The name's Agnes, and this here locomotive is Betsy. Anything you need, you come to me, all right?"

So that is who Betsy is. The train!

"Thank you."

"I'm headin' out for the day, Mister Frye. I'll see ya tomorrow."

"Good evening, Agnes."

"Good evening."

She gathers her bag and makes her way to the dining car. My attention is drawn to a long couch pushed up against the wall. It is covered in a white blanket, with a small pillow at the head. Jacob notices me staring.

"That would be my bed." he says, flopping onto the worn cushions with a happy sigh.

"And it is… comfortable?" I ask.

The bed does not look wide enough for his broad shoulders, but he reclines anyways. It's a little small, but the couch has clearly been his bed for a long time. He fits perfectly.

"Quite comfortable." he responds.

Just as soon as he is settled in, he leaps to his feet, "Let's continue our tour then."

We hop over the train gap again. I have to force myself to look into Jacob's eyes instead of the train tracks speeding by beneath us. Evie is seated in a deep blue armchair, a wicked looking blade in her lap. She stops her meticulous polishing when she sees us enter, sticking the blade into a long, golden stick. A cane?

"What is that?" I ask, unable to stop the curiosity from taking over.

Evie stands, offering me the cane. Now that I hold it in my hands, I find that it has a distinct weight to it. Not too heavy to make it impossible to wield, but light enough to allow for smooth momentum. It feels nice in my hands. The cane is golden, portions of it wrapped with white gold inlaid with sapphires and rubies that glimmer ominously in the setting sunlight. The cane is topped with an intricately carved white dove.

"It's a cane sword. Pull up and twist to the right."

Experimentally, I give the top of the cane a firm tug, rotating my wrist to the right. The blade comes free with a dark click. It is the length of my forearm, the metal pounded to a thin but sharp edge. Jacob shifting his weight is what brings me back to reality, and I find two pairs of eyes gazing at me.

"It suits you." Evie says.

"I like it." I respond quietly, mesmerized by the gleam of the blade in the light.

"Would you like to keep it?" Jacob asks.

"Keep it? Could I?"

I notice the siblings exchange a glance. A small one, but still noticeable.

"I could teach you how to use it." Jacob suggests.

"I suppose it would be prudent to teach you how to use a weapon, just in case." Evie concedes.

I sheath the blade into the cane again, the low click telling me it has hit its mark.

"There are two other blades in the cane." Evie says.

She grasps the cane, twisting the dove and pressing down. A scythe-like blade on the side of the cane springs to life, shining dangerously. She twists the dove again and it snaps back into place, completely hidden. She then presses a particularly large sapphire on the cane, and a blade emerges from the bottom of it. Pushing the gem again to stow it, she hands the cane back to me.

"What do you think?"

"I love it! Are you certain I can have it?"

"Of course. It's yours."

"We have plenty of weapons anyway." Jacob adds.

Why am I not surprised by that?

"Thank you. It is beautiful. I cannot wait to learn how to use it!"

"We'll practice tomorrow, if you're feeling well enough," Jacob says, "for now, we should start securing the train for nightfall. I'll bring your trunk up here, Jessamine."

"I will be sleeping here?" I ask, noticing the bed along the wall.

"It used to be my room," Evie says, "but ever since Henry and I got married, I've been living with him. Poor Jacob's been here all by himself."

Jacob scoffs and takes his leave, walking back through the train to where we left my trunk.

"We're close to Henry's shop, so I'll take my leave. I'll be back for breakfast in the morning, all right?"

"When can I meet Mr. Green?"

Evie chuckles, "Soon, I promise. As soon as we get everything settled and your concussion heals. Speaking of, make sure you get plenty of rest. The headaches will set in soon, but your concussion seems to be quite mild and your symptoms should alleviate after tomorrow. Don't push yourself any further."

"Thank you, Evie. For everything."

"Just doing my job, Jessamine. I'll see you in the morning."

Evie waves and makes her way to the door, disappearing around the corner. I follow, curious to see her leap from a speeding train. I arrive at the door and peer around the corner, the wind whipping through my hair. Evie is gone.

A loud noise draws my attention to the next car, where Jacob has dropped my trunk on the ground and shuts the door with a bang. He secures the lock and slides the bolt before turning around and sweeping the trunk back into his arms. He looks up then, and notices me watching him. He approaches me. I back up into my car as he bridges the gap in one long stride. Suddenly he is directly in front of me. I almost trip over myself to get further out of the way. He sets my trunk down against the wall before turning back to me, his eyes lit with his usual teasing expression.

"Let me show you how to lock the doors and windows."

He moves past me to the other end of the car. I cannot help but catch his scent as he brushes past. Leather, with something musky yet sweet… I almost forget to follow him to the door. He shuts it, making sure I see him flip the lock and then bolt the door.

"All secure. The windows have a metal cover you can slide down from the top and latch."

He brushes past me again, the narrow train car meaning that he has to grab my shoulders to gently maneuver me out of his way. His touch warms me up immediately, and I am reminded of the poems. He latches the window. I watch his muscles roll beneath his coat before he turns back to me.

"Sleep with your cane by your bed tonight. Nothing will happen to you, but precautions should be taken. We've had too many mistakes."

"I will."

"Show me you know how to bolt your door, yeah?"

Jacob steps out of my car and into his, turning back to face me. Our eyes lock for a brief moment before I shut the door. I flip the lock and slide the bolt, and seconds later I see the handle shake. The door does not budge.

"Good work," Jacob calls through the door, "good night, Jessamine!"

"Good night, Jacob!"

With the door shut, the sounds of the train are muffled to create a pleasantly soft noise. I hear the distinct sound of his metal door slamming. I suppose I should get ready for bed. I unlock my trunk and open the lid as a horrible realization hits me.

My corset. How am I to undo it? I cannot reach around behind my back, my arms do not bend in that way. Oh, God. Do I sleep in it? No. That would be terribly uncomfortable. I have to get someone to remove it. Agnes? No, she left for the day. There were some women in the dining car, but I cannot get into that car without going through Jacob's car first. He will have to do it. A blush hits my cheeks as I maneuver my way out of my petticoats. I make my way back towards the door. He will have to remove my dress. Jacob will see me in just my undergarments! But that cannot be much worse from seeing me in my dressing gown I suppose. Oh, who am I fooling? Of course it will be worse.

I take a deep breath to calm my embarrassment as I unlock my door. I open it, the wind once again attacking my hair as I lean dangerously far over the gap to pound on his door. The train is loud, battering my ears relentlessly. I can feel the start of the headache Evie mentioned, and my brain's acknowledgment of the headache spurs my stomach to react, as well. And just like that, I am nauseous and dizzy. I almost lose my balance from reaching so far over the gap, but my grip on my doorframe saves me. Jacob's door swings open and my heart nearly stops. He is not wearing a shirt. His muscular chest is on full display, his strong shoulders and bulging biceps tight and powerful. His pants hang low on his hips, and I can see a trail of hair leading down to his…

It would seem I have forgotten how to breathe.

Jacob just stares at me with eyebrows raised, no doubt having noticed my lack of underskirts. My head gives another painful throb, my stomach clenches.

"May I come in, please? It is important."

He holds out his hands and I take them. He pulls me over the gap and into his chest. I can feel his bare skin beneath my palms, warm and soft. His chest is laced with scars. Circular ones that I can only assume are from bullets, and lines of many different lengths and sizes that are likely from blades. He releases me.

"What can I do for you, Jessamine?"

My blush burns hotter, "I, um, I need some help. With, er, with my corset? I cannot reach the ties, if you could maybe…"

"Of course. Arms up, then."

I steel myself with another breath as he leans down and grasps the bottom of my skirt. I raise my arms over my head as he pulls upwards in one fluid motion, the green fabric flying over my head and to the floor. And thus, I am standing in my corset and underwear.

"Turn around."

I do, avoiding his eyes. I place my palms against the wall to steady myself as another wave of nausea crashes over my head. I feel his touch at my back as he undoes the tie and begins to loosen the corset, his nimble fingers making quick work of the ribbon. Mercifully, he leaves the corset tight enough so it will not fall off of me.

"Come on then, let's get you back to your car."

It takes me a moment to get my bearings and turn around.

"You're pale," Jacob observes, "are you all right?"

"I - I am fine."

"You are not _fine_. You are concussed, you are bound to hurt. I'll ask again, Jessamine. Are you all right?"

The train jolts over a bump and I immediately lose my balance. He grabs my arms and attempts to haul me back to my feet, but my head is spinning.

"I do not… I do not feel very…"

"We need to get you back to bed. Come on, you can walk, can't you?"

I take a shaky step forward, but the door is not any closer than it was before. If anything, it seems to loom farther away. I take another one, and another one. Jacob holds me up against him, my dress flung over his shoulder. The door seems to stay in one place, despite the fact that I know I am walking towards it.

"Jacob, the door. It is not moving."

"Hush, Jessa. We're almost there. You can make it."

The pounding of the train on the tracks makes my head throb even more. I sag against him, my legs feel strange. Tingling and weak.

"Jessa, come on. You have to keep moving."

"I am! Nothing else is."

I shut my eyes and allow myself to be pulled forward. I open my eyes again and am shocked to find the door directly in front of my face.

"All right. On the count of three, you need to jump. Do you understand?"

"Yes. No. On the count of three or after the count of three?"

"Bloody hell. One, two, three."

Jacob grunts in my ear as he hauls me over the gap, planting my feet on the other side and walking me into my train car.

"Can you undress yourself? What am I saying, you can't even keep your bloody eyes open."

He heaves a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I doubt you'll remember this in the morning, and I promise this is more embarrassing for me than it is for you. All right. Here we go."

He leads me over to the bed and I flop against the covers, fighting away the nausea and the throbbing ache in my head. I feel weak and dizzy. Air brushes over my breasts. Looking down, I find them to be totally exposed. Jacob has his back to me, rummaging through my trunk in search of something. My arms slowly obey my brain's command to cover myself, and I close my hands over my breasts as he turns back around to face me.

"Ah, splendid. You're coherent. Put this on, would you?"

Jacob throws the dressing gown in my face. My brain follows its reflex to catch it, leaving my chest exposed once again. I see Jacob's eyes flick down, for just a moment, but it is enough to remind me that I am completely unclothed. I clumsily pull the dressing gown over my head and Jacob approaches me again. He kneels on the floor and removes my shoes, before sliding his hands up my legs and dragging my underwear to the floor. He does it so quickly I do not have time to process the indecency of our situation. He pulls back the sheets of the bed and guides me underneath them. A chill sweeps over my body.

"I am cold."

"I'll get you a blanket."

"No."

"No?"

"Keep me warm, please. My head hurts."

He chuckles, "You're a bloody mess, you know that?"

I bury my face in the pillow as another shiver jolts me, "Please."

I hear a sigh above me before I hear the slamming of a door, and then another door. The lock clicks, and a few moments later the bed moves as I feel him lay down beside me. I crack an eye open to find his gaze already trained on me.

"Are you sure about this? We've had enough indecencies to last us a lifetime."

"Then one more will not kill us. Please. I am cold, and my stomach hurts, and -"

"All right, all right. I understand. Move over."

I press myself against the wall as he lifts the sheets and slides beneath them.

"I'm only doing this because you won't remember it."

I slide across the bed and into him, laying my head on his chest. His warmth immediately envelopes me as he wraps an arm around my shoulders. His hand comes to rest on my waist. His sigh ruffles my hair as I cuddle deeper into him. His skin against my cheek is warm, alleviating my headache.

"I feel better already."

"I live to serve, Miss Disraeli. Now please, go to bed. You need to sleep this off."

hi! i have to start by saying thank you to the few that left reviews in the past few days, you have absolutely made my day with them! thank you very much for telling me your thoughts, and i am very glad you are enjoying! if you are too, please don't hesitate to leave a review! i would love to hear your thoughts. see you soon! xoxo


	10. Chapter 10

A piercing whistle from the train pulls me from sleep. The metal shades of the windows are excellent for blocking out the light, the lanterns on the wall make the room appear as if it was still night. The only indication of daylight are the slivers of sunshine coming through the gaps between the window covers. My headache has dulled to a faint throb, the healing wound on the back of my head is sore. My memories of last night are blurry at best. I remember the light of the lanterns, the awful headache. Something that kept me warm. Exposed… something. Fingertips on my thighs. The scent of leather, with something musky yet sweet. I do not remember anything concrete, which is frustrating. This must be a symptom of concussion. Evie said it should start to go away after today. Maybe tomorrow I can start training with Jacob.

Slowly, I sit up. My head hurts, but the dizziness does not overtake me. The aching of my palm draws my attention to the bandage there. I unwind it slowly, revealing a long, thin scab from the base of my thumb to my ring finger. The bandage is not necessary anymore, so I ball it up. I will dispose of it soon. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I stand. I waver on my feet for only a moment before my equilibrium restores itself. I could not possibly get dressed on my own, I suppose I shall have to take breakfast in my dressing gown. Both Evie and Jacob have already seen me in one, I have no more dignity to protect.

Breakfast will probably be in the dining car, so I suppose I should head in that direction. I select a pair of slippers from my trunk and slide them onto my feet. I go to unlock my door, but find that it has already been unlocked. That is strange. I remember Jacob teaching me how to lock it last night. Maybe it is something that I do not remember. I tug open the door, the pounding of the train on the tracks assaults my ears. Jacob's door is open, but he is not inside the train car. I shall have to bridge the gap between the cars by myself.

Slowly, I back up a few steps into my car. Steeling myself with a strong breath, I start running before I lose my nerve. I leap from my car into his, safely clearing the edge with a gust of wind pushing my hair behind my shoulders. My head throbs when my feet hit the ground, I grab onto the door frame until my balance comes back. I do not recall being so unbalanced before, hopefully the concussion symptoms will subside soon. I am feeling like a damsel in distress, which is probably not helping to convince Jacob that I am capable of learning to defend myself. I tug my hair back over my shoulders, my fingers meet with a tangle of dark brown knots.

"Good morning, dear. How did you sleep?"

I startle at the sudden voice of Agnes, who had been working at her desk.

"Fine, thank you."

My fingers snag in the snarls of my hair once more, "Agnes, you wouldn't happen to know how to braid hair, would you?"

"Of course, dear! I've got a daughter of my own back home. Come on over."

She stands, offering me her chair. I sit, and she begins to comb through my tangled tresses with her fingers.

"You have the most beautiful hair, Miss Jessamine. So long and thick. And such a pretty color!"

Agnes is a natural mother, it makes me miss my own. I hope Mother is not too worried over me.

"Thank you. What is your daughter's name?"

"Mary. I've got two little boys, too, Travis and Joseph."

"I would like to meet them sometime. I am sure they are beautiful."

"Oh, they are. I'm very proud of them."

She finishes combing through my hair and plaits it into one thick braid down my back. She plucks a dark blue ribbon off of her desk and secures my hair with it.

"Thank you, Agnes. I feel much better."

"Any time, dear. If you ever need anything else, you know where to find me."

I continue through Jacob's car, noticing his "bed" has been made. I can hear the faint sound of voices coming from the dining car up ahead, my stomach rumbles as if on cue. I hop over the gap once more. It is a little easier than before, but no less butterfly-inducing. Again pausing to steady myself, I smooth my dressing gown before making my way into the car. The siblings are seated at the table, surrounded by plates of toast, cheese, fruit, and meat. Evie looks up when I enter, her face lighting up with a smile.

"Good morning, Jessamine. Did you sleep well?" Evie says, patting the spot next to her.

"I did, thank you. This looks delicious!"

I slide into the booth next to Evie. Jacob is seated across from us, polishing off the remains of a piece of toast smothered in creamy Brie cheese.

"Are you feeling better? Oh, your hair! It's beautiful."

"Thank you, Agnes did it for me. And I am feeling better. My head hurts, but it is not as bad as yesterday. My palm has healed and I think my head is on the mend as well. I seem to be having some problems staying balanced, though. And I have a hard time remembering things."

"That's all very normal, I believe. Henry found some more research on concussions for me yesterday, and all of the symptoms you've been experiencing are listed."

"That is nice to hear. I would just like this to go away."

"I know you would. I estimate that after today you'll start to feel much better."

Jacob has been uncharacteristically quiet across from us, I wonder why? I reach out and grab a piece of toast, spreading some of the cheese on it and topping it with prosciutto. I take a bite, immediately melting. I would never have guessed the Frye twins would have an affinity for Charcuterie.

"What are your plans for today, Jacob?" Evie asks, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"I'm going to speak with Mrs. Disraeli about who her informant was, and then I'll be… Extracting information as necessary."

Evie rolls her eyes at the euphemism, "Good. I'm eager to know more about this nameless Templar faction. The sooner we take them out the sooner Jessamine can go back home."

"Will you tell my parents that I love them?"

"Of course." Jacob says, finally looking at me.

His eyes catch the light streaming through the window, turning them gold. He gazes at me for a moment longer before he looks away, popping a grape into his mouth and standing.

"I'll be back tonight."

"We'll see you then." Evie says. Jacob walks away, his broad shoulders barely fitting through the door of the train. He's gone.

"What are we doing today, Evie?"

"I was thinking I would take you to meet my husband, and to get you a pair of pants."

Pants! Pants for me!

"Truly? Pants?"

"Yes, pants. Jacob would like to start your training as soon as you're able, and you can't very well do it in a dress."

A zing of excitement shoots through me. Jacob will finally be teaching me to defend myself! And I will get to wear pants! I do not know which I am more excited about.

"Oh, thank you! I need some help getting dressed, if you please. Corsets are not the most easy garment to put on."

Evie giggles, "Right you are. I don't wear one."

"You do not wear a corset? But how do you… contain yourself?"

"I have a garment similar to a corset, made of thick cotton that keeps everything in place. It's shorter, just wrapping around my upper rib cage. I also wear several layers of leather for protection, which helps a little bit, too."

"Fascinating. I have never worn anything but a corset before. I cannot imagine it."

"I'll show you today, if you like. We'll dress you up just like me."

A few days ago I would have been appalled at the idea of not wearing a corset. But now? Excitement is the feeling coursing through me. Evie and I stand from the table and make our way back to my train car, passing by Agnes on the way. Agnes tells Evie that they will be in Whitechapel in about ten minutes, she will be stopping at the station so we can get off. Evie politely turns around while I remove my dressing gown and put on my undergarments. She laces up my corset and I slide on a dark blue dress with heavy embroidery to complement the ribbon Agnes put in my hair. I choose a pair of brown lamb suede kid boots and a green hat with dyed feathers. The train's brakes give a soft squeal, indicating that we are pulling into the station and beginning to slow down. Evie leads me back to the dining cabin, where I cannot resist taking another piece of bread with cheese and meat. Evie pops a grape into her mouth the same way Jacob did, reminding me that they are siblings. There is a door on the wall of the dining car that I did not notice before, and as the train grinds to a halt, Evie pushes it open. The platform glides by alongside us, finally stopping. Evie calls out a goodbye to Agnes and smoothly jumps out of the train and onto the platform. She turns to me and offers her hands, which I use for support. My balance has not returned to me, irritatingly enough.

Whitechapel Station is still just as beautiful as I remember. The glass ceiling refracts the sunbeams over the concrete floor of the station, painting the walls with shadowy patterns. Evie keeps track of me this time; we weave through the crowd and out into the sunshine. She immediately takes to the sidewalk, it is all I can do to follow closely as I take in the streets. This part of town is by no means the richest area in London, shown by the cramped buildings that line the streets, appearing to fight for space. The sidewalks are full of people hurrying to and fro, many stealing curious glances at Evie as we pass.

Evie's ensemble is not something that I have spent a lot of time looking at, but now that she has told me I will get to dress just like her, I take a closer look. Evie is pushing against the boundaries of women's fashion with incredible gusto. Her pants are molded to her legs, and her long coat accentuates her waist and hips with no ruffles or bustles necessary. Mother would faint if she saw me in such an outfit. Everything is skintight for maximum mobility, supple leather boots and a belt full of little tools and gadgets I hope she will explain to me. The flash of the metal gauntlet on her wrist reminds me that I should like to know what that is, as well. I have so many questions!

Evie halts us by abruptly turning into a little doorway of an unassuming building, the sign over the store front reading "Curiosity Shop". She pushes open the door, a little bell chiming to announce our entrance.

"Henry?" Evie calls into the shop.

"In here, love!" a man's voice responds, sounding muffled.

I am about to meet Evie's husband! Henry Green. I wonder what he looks like? She said he was an Indian, I have not seen many Indian men in my lifetime. I wonder if he is as handsome as she implied. I follow her into the shop, taking in the knick knacks on the shelves that I know I will need to get a closer look at later.

"Wait right here." she says, leaving me in the middle of the shop as she ducks through a curtain obscuring a back room.

I hear hushed voices coming from behind the thick, dark red curtain. I resist the urge to eavesdrop, instead wandering about the small shop. It is cramped with shelves and tables of various antiques and gadgets, devices and books. I trace my fingers along the shelves, taking in the scent of worn cloth and metal. My fingertips come away clean; Mr. Green keeps his shop in impeccable condition. The worn wooden floor boards and dark brown walls and shelves give his shop a cozy, calming feeling. A flash of color on a shelf at my eye level draws my attention.

Upon closer inspection, I find a set of drawing pencils. How novel! All I have ever owned is a charcoal pencil and primary colors in the form of chalk. But these… Every color of the rainbow and everything in between is displayed in the case before me, all in pencil form. My fingers immediately itch to draw. I have not drawn anything in days, the last one I completed was of Thomas. Thomas. I open the case and pick up a golden yellow pencil, the same shade as his hair. An emerald green, the same color as his eyes. Pale red, like his lips.

"Ah, here you are Jessamine! Henry, meet Miss Jessamine Disraeli. Jessamine, meet my husband, Henry Green."

I turn as Evie and Mr. Green emerge from behind the red curtain. Mr. Green is indeed as handsome as Evie suggested. Not as large as Jacob but imposing all the same, with a strong brow and defined jaw. His skin is dark, his hair is darker. He has deep brown eyes and earrings that sparkle in the low light. His smile is kind as he reaches out to take my hand.

"Miss Disraeli, a pleasure to meet you."

He has an accent, a very interesting one. I like it.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Green. I have heard a lot about you."

Mr. Green turns to his wife with a teasing smirk on his face.

"Good things, I hope?" he asks her.

"All good things, love." she responds, grinning back at him.

My heart clenches at the love they have for each other, plainly written all over their faces. After a moment they realize they are not alone, and Mr. Green turns back to me.

"I see you've found the colored pencils." he says, gesturing to the pale red pencil my fingers cannot bring themselves to let go of.

"Yes, they are very beautiful."

"Do you draw?" he asks.

"Yes, I like to when I have the time. I have never seen such pencils before. Where are they from?"

"From my most recent trip to India. A man I know has begun manufacturing colored pencils for artists in a broad range of colors, and I had to bring a set back. They're very nice, all handcrafted."

"Would you like to have them, Jessamine? We have sheets of canvas paper back on the train. You could assemble a portfolio! Something to do while you're with us. How does that sound?" Evie asks, her bright blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Really? I could have these?"

"Of course," Mr. Green says, "if you'd like to have them, they're yours."

"Oh, thank you! They're beautiful."

"Let me get you some parchment paper to wrap them up in." Mr. Green says, taking the pencil case and disappearing behind the counter. He reappears with parchment paper and string, wrapping the pencils up and handing them to me. I feel them rattle in their case, the sound filling me with joy. I will be able to draw again!

 ** _hi! back again! i just have to say THANK YOU for your kind words in your reviews, they have really pushed me to_** ** _continue writing this story since i know at least someone is enjoying ;P if you enjoyed, please don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know what you think! i would also very much appreciate a favorite/follow, it absolutely makes my day to see a message in my inbox telling me this little family has grown bigger. thank you again for all of your support, i hope to see you again soon! xoxo_**


	11. Chapter 11

"Oh my goodness, are you sure? I - I feel like a courtesan!"

"Nonsense, Jessamine. You look fine. Remember, we dress like this for ease of movement. Besides, you have lovely legs! You needn't hide them under petticoats."

"This was a bad idea. I should never have wished for pants. May I have my dress back?"

"Don't be silly. You are an independent woman that can wear whatever she pleases. You were so excited about the pants, why don't you want to wear them?"

"Because… Because they are so… So form-fitting! Mother would die of shock if she saw me dressed like this. And the coat! The coat is tight. And I am not wearing a corset!"

"You don't need a corset. Isn't the cotton garment much more comfortable? Nothing is out of place, is it?"

"Well, no. But -"

"But nothing, Jessamine. You look beautiful, and very strong. I'll have to make Henry close his eyes."

That coaxes a giggle out of me, and Evie smiles.

"See? It's not so bad. Aren't they comfortable?"

The pants are indeed very comfortable, and so are the boots. The binding round my chest is similar to a corset, but it only wraps around the top half of my rib cage and has straps over my shoulders to keep it in place. It laces in the front so the wearer can put it on easily by themselves, a rather ingenious invention.

"Now let me do your hair. I keep it up and out of my face so I don't need to worry about it during combat."

Combat. Will I be doing combat? Evie and Jacob are supposed to be fighting for me. What if I could fight for myself? Would I be able to jump through a glass window like Evie, or drive an out of control carriage through the streets like Jacob? Jacob. Actually, now that I think about it, Evie is the one that has done all the combat thus far. Jacob must be a deadly fighter, if his scars are any indication.

Evie stands behind me in the mirror. She divides my hair into two sections, braids them, and twists my hair into a knot at the base of my neck just like hers. We look like mirror images of each other, except my attire is accented with dark blue, and hers with dark red and purple. My boots stretch up past my knees while hers stop at her calves. My ensemble looks a little bare next to Evie, she is covered with straps that criss cross her torso and are full of different bottles and pouches. The metal glove flashing on her wrist in the low light of the bedroom reminds me of my question.

"Evie, what is on your wrist? The metal glove?"

"This is a gauntlet. It has a lot of little useful gadgets attached, like a dart gun here."

She shows me the back of her forearm, where a small cylindrical device is attached. She reaches into one of her many pouches and pulls out a small silver dart with a sharp point. It looks very thin and fragile.

"When I activate the dart by locking it in place, all it takes is the curling of my little finger to fire it."

She hands it to me, "Don't touch the point. It is dipped in powerful hallucinogens. One touch and you'll go mad before dying a rather painful death."

"Aren't you worried you'll accidentally touch it?"

"Gloves, Jessamine, dear."

"Right."

I tentatively take the dart, gazing at the tip of it. I see nothing unusual, but I would rather not risk my life and sanity to see if Evie is telling the truth. She takes the dart and stows it, rotating her arm to show me what's underneath. A rectangular metal box is attached to the middle of the bracer, it looks as if a metal spring is inside.

"This is a hidden blade. It takes the application of pressure to the back of the device to activate it, by flicking the wrist."

She flexes her wrist and a gear spins to life. The spring activates in the blink of an eye, and a sharp metallic blade shoots out of the rectangular device. It glints menacingly in the light. Evie relaxes her wrist and the blade pops back into place just as quickly.

"And finally, my favorite part."

She gestures to the piece of metal bent into the shape of what I have come to recognize is the symbol of the Brotherhood.

"This is a grappling hook, it helps us get from place to place and make quick escapes when necessary. It takes a flexing of the thumb to activate and control it. It definitely takes some getting used to, but once you've mastered it, you feel like you're flying."

"How exciting. Will you teach me how to use one?"

Evie hesitates, "Well, the gauntlets are only for those in the Brotherhood…"

"Oh. I understand. The beautiful cane you gave me is more than enough."

She smiles at me, "Jacob wants to take you tomorrow to start your training if you're well enough. How has your head been?"

"Fine, surprisingly. It seems that only loud noises or jarring movements cause headaches, and today has been nice and quiet."

Evie giggles, "I'm glad to hear it. And your head is healing well?"

"Yes. No bleeding or anything, but I do believe that I will have a nice scar to show off. My very first scar, however, is on my hand."

I hold out my palm to her, where the thin scab slices through the pale skin. I cannot help but feel as if it is the first of many, if I continue on the path I am currently running down.

"And hopefully you won't gain any more while under our care." Evie comments, observing my palm under the light.

She pauses for a moment, as if thinking about something, before she pats my hand and lets it go.

"Let's go show Henry your new look, shall we?"

Evie leads me from her and Henry's bedroom and down the stairs. She pushes aside the dark red velvet curtain and we come back into the shop, where Henry is meticulously cleaning his shelves with a small cloth.

"Henry, love. What do you think? She looks like one of us."

Henry turns, and his eyes nearly pop out of his head. I feel the urge to turn around and cover my legs and hips again, but Evie grabs my arm and keeps my hands at my sides.

"Henry?"

He clears his throat, "You look magnificent. No longer a dainty lady, hm?"

"No indeed," Evie agrees, "a strong woman, now. How do you feel?"

"I feel… Nervous. But I also feel good. Confident. Pants are strangely freeing."

Evie chuckles, "They are. Let me go back upstairs and get some more clothes for you to take back to the train. I want you to start wearing these for your training. Jacob will show you no mercy, trust me."

She leans forward conspiratorially, "However, if you ever find yourself in a tough spot, remember that Jacob is extremely ticklish."

"Jacob, ticklish?"

I find that incredibly hard to believe. That massive, strong man is… ticklish?

Henry chuckles, "Very ticklish, just about anywhere."

I file away that useful piece of information with amusement. I wonder how he will react to seeing me without the usual several layers of skirts? Well, he already has. Last night… My corset. And Jacob. Jacob shirtless. Shirtless Jacob removing my corset. And he saw my - oh my goodness. I remember!

"Jessamine, are you all right? You've gone rather pale. Does your head hurt?"

"No, no I am fine. The sun is beginning to set, should we not get back to the train?"

"Yes, we should. I'll go fetch those clothes."

Evie disappears back through the curtain. I approach the counter and pick up the package Henry wrapped for me, my mind reeling. I remember everything that happened last night, from the touch of his fingertips on my thighs to the feeling of falling asleep in his arms. What have I done?

"Really, Miss Disraeli. You do look the part, I must confess."

"Thank you, Mr. Green. I must confess that I feel the part."

He smiles before going back to his cleaning.

"Henry, love, would you take Jessamine and I back to Whitechapel Station with the carriage? This trunk is rather heavy, I wouldn't like to carry it all the way to the station."

Evie's voice drifts through the curtain, and moments later Evie emerges through the curtain with a large trunk on her shoulder. Not quite as large as the trunk I brought with me from Hughenden, but large enough to make me question whether or not she is human.

"Certainly, love," Henry responds, as if his wife carrying all of her body weight is an unconcerning occurrence, "I'll go get it ready."

Henry puts his rag back behind the counter and heads out through the front door. I see him walk past the store windows and disappear.

"Evie, is that trunk not heavy?"

Evie sets the trunk on the ground with a resounding thud.

"It is, a little. But nothing I can't handle."

"How are you so strong?"

"Many years of practice. Many, many years."

"I can hardly imagine it."

"Let's get going then, Henry's outside."

Evie hoists the trunk back onto her shoulder and makes her way out of the shop. I follow, clutching my pencils close to my chest. Here I go. Wearing pants in public for the first time of many. I just have to remember the confidence and bravery I felt when I first put them on. I can do this. I step out into the sunlight after Evie, feeling the coat swish against my thighs and the cotton corset against my chest. I feel like a new person. A better person, a newer version of myself. Maybe this targeting by the Templar faction will awaken another part of me that would have stayed dormant otherwise.

Evie puts the trunk on the back of the carriage as Henry locks up the curiosity shop. And, for the first time ever, I climb into a carriage all by myself. Evie elects to sit up front with her husband, and thus I am alone with my thoughts. Immediately, my mind wanders back to Jacob and the massive mistake I made. My head was hurting and I was nauseous, perhaps poor judgement is another symptom of concussion.

Suddenly, a series of thuds sound from outside the door. The door of the carriage opens and the reins snap. The carriage jerks forward as the horse gives a startled whinny and starts off at a full gallop. The carriage door slams shut and a man settles himself on the seat across from me. The carriage whips around the corner. His blonde hair still is not as long as I like it to be, his driving uniform having been replaced by a red tunic and black pants.

"Thomas?"

My brain has almost stopped working from the shock of seeing him across from me. I knew I would see him again, but I never thought it would be so soon.

"Jessa. I can't believe I've found you."

"You were looking for me?"

"Of course I was looking for you," he grabs my hand in his, "I never got to say goodbye. I'm so glad you're safe."

"I am glad too. Evie and Jacob have been taking very good care of me, I am safe."

The carriage whips around another corner, and I can feel a headache coming on.

"Come here. I want to hold you." Thomas says, holding out his arms for me.

I sit down next to him, his arm curling around my shoulders.

"How did Henry and Evie let you come with us to the station? She was wary of your presence back at the manor."

"I simply asked nicely. They were rather accommodating."

"That is surprising. I am glad they decided to trust you. Perhaps you could help Evie and Jacob figure out who the spies are."

"I've been thinking about that. It's likely that the newest workers at Hughenden are part of the Aces, like the gardeners your mother hired to finish the grounds, or your father's new valet."

"The Aces. That is their name?"

"Yes, Jessa. The Black Aces. They're dangerous, ruthless."

"The Black Aces. How did you know that? Not even Evie and Jacob knew that."

Suddenly, a memory I had suppressed rises to the surface. The two men in St. James Park when we went for our picnic. They were wearing red, just like Thomas. When I stiffen against him, his fingers tighten painfully on my arm.

"Now, now, Jessa. Don't be afraid. I don't want to hurt you."

"How - how could you -"

"Your father will pay a pretty penny for your life, Jessa. Enough to help the Aces finally rise and subdue the Rooks for control of the city. We want to return London to its former glory. Everything will be as it was before your precious Frye twins arrived here."

I feel as if I am about to throw up, terror has locked my limbs in place under Thomas's harsh grip. My headache becomes worse with every harsh turn of the carriage. But the worst pain of all? My heart. It is steadily wrenching itself apart.

"Who is driving this carriage? Where are Evie and Henry?"

"Some friends of mine have relieved Evie and Henry of their chauffeuring duties. I'm sure they're beside themselves with worry, trying to find us and all. Don't worry. We'll keep you nice and safe with us."

I have to get out. I have to escape. London is massive, how will Evie and Jacob find me if I let myself get dragged away?

"Don't think about trying to escape, love," Thomas's voice by my ear makes my blood run cold, "we've got a dozen men in two carriages following behind us. You'll only cause more trouble."

How is it that he can read my mind? But I cannot give up. I am wearing pants for goodness sake! I am strong and independent. Thomas does not want me dead, he will not kill me. If I can push open the door of the carriage and jump out, run away… Could I do it? I have to try.

"Just please do not hurt me. Please." I whimper, turning my eyes to his. He always said my eyes were his weakness. But that could have been a lie, like his love for me was. I cannot believe I was so foolish as to trust him. His grip on my arm lightens, the sweet Thomas smile I loved so much graces his features.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Good."

I turn my head to the side and bite his hand as hard as I can manage. He cries out in pain and I break away from him, delivering a kick to his shin with the heel of my boot as I lunge for the carriage door. I grasp the handle and yank downwards, throwing the weight of my body against it. It flies open and I tumble to the dirty cobblestones. My left shoulder strikes the stone but I have no time to waste. The carriage has not stopped yet, I narrowly avoid being hit by the wheel. I stumble to my feet and take off running, my head pounding and my shoulder numb. I hear the sounds of male voices and the whinny of a horse, the fear gripping my broken heart propelling me forward. I dart into the first alleyway I can find, my new boots giving me a strong and steady foothold against the uneven cobbles. Men and women alike leap out of the way as I charge down the alley and onto the next street, veering onto the sidewalk and running blindly as fast as my legs will carry me. I have no idea where I am or where I am going, I just know that I have to keep moving. I have to keep moving.

The crack of a whip and the distant shouting of voices follows me. I have to lose them somehow. Suddenly, the sidewalk in front of me opens into a large marketplace, with stalls selling fish, bread, and other commodities. I realize where I am. Somewhere along the shore of the River Thames. I have to hide. The street here is blocked off by barriers to host the market, so I know that at least the carriages will not get through. That will not stop men. I duck into the first stall that I find, one selling loaves of bread. The vendor, an older man with graying red hair, is absolutely terrified by my presence.

"Please, Sir, please. You have to help me. I am being chased by men trying to kidnap me, which I know must sound mad, but if I could just hide under your table for a few moments I would be eternally grateful."

"So long as you don't steal anything, I suppose no harm can come from it."

"Oh, thank you! I am not here."

I promptly slide underneath the table and tuck my knees to my chest, finally catching my breath and calming my pounding heart. My shoulder is no longer numb, it is absolutely on fire. The slightest movement causes a searing pain through me. My arm is dangling awkwardly at my side. But I must be strong. I must survive this. I used my fear to propel me instead of letting it freeze me in place; I cannot stop now. Male voices cause my breath to hitch in my chest.

"She's here somewhere. Fan out. Take out anyone that gets in your way. We need her alive, boys!"

That was Thomas. To think that just a few days ago I was falling in love with the sweet young man that drove our family carriage, and now he is hunting me down like a tiger its prey. He was the one thing that gave my life purpose, kept me from wasting away. Without him, I am nothing except for a pretty young socialite. A lady. My mind still cannot comprehend his betrayal. What will he do if he finds me? I could not pull off another escape attempt with my injured shoulder. The panic threatens to make me freeze again, but I channel it into adrenaline to fuel my racing thoughts.

"Excuse me, Sir. Have you seen a young woman running by here, dark brown hair, wearing a trench coat and pants?"

Thomas. I can see his black leather boots through the gap between the stall curtain and the ground.

"Yes, Sir, I have," the vendor says, "she ran that way, farther into the market. Strange sight, that was. Pants on a young woman."

"Thank you, Sir. Good day."

"And to you."

Thomas's boots leave the stall and I exhale a soft sigh of relief. Perhaps, with the Aces delving farther into the market, I can make my escape back the way I came. Tentatively, I crawl out from underneath the stall. I cannot put any weight at all on my injured shoulder, instead cradling my arm against my chest in an attempt to keep it still. The pain is nightmarish, but I must push through.

"Have they gone, Sir?"

"Yes, Miss. They've gone. Do you need assistance, is there something I can do for you?"

"No, but thank you. Your help was greatly appreciated."

I smile at him and duck out of the stall, walking back the way I came and keeping my eyes on the lookout for any flashes of red. There are no men that I can see, so I focus on blending in with the crowd. I can make it out of here alive and lose them in the process, if I am cautious. The man I see next makes my heart skip a beat. He seems to be looking for something, or someone, partially hidden behind a stall. I would not have noticed him had I not recognized his top hat.

"Jacob!"

He whips around at the sound of my voice, the panic on his face melting into a look of intense relief. He takes off at a dead run, weaving through the crowd of people with expert grace and precision. Relief washes through me in waves. I am safe. I will be all right. I can hardly move without hissing in pain, so I stay put as Jacob almost knocks over a child to get to me. He reaches out to grab me but stops short.

"Bloody hell, are you all right? You're hurt. Your shoulder. We have to get you out of here."

"I see her!" a voice shouts from behind us. Jacob looks over my shoulder and his eyes harden.

"Bloody fucking bastards. I'm going to kill them all. Get to that stall selling baskets, be safe. And… You may not want to watch this."

His low growl of a voice would be have terrified me if not for knowing who his anger is directed towards. His steady hand is on my right shoulder, pushing me behind him and towards the booth many paces away at the front of the market. Jacob is here, and he is going to defend us. I have never seen Jacob fight.

 ** _hi everyone! back again! i thought i'd give you a nice plot twist to apologize_** ** _for my absence, i've been super busy! many apologies. let me know what you thought with a review, i'd love to hear from you! favorite and follow if you enjoyed, i would be ever so grateful. see you next chapter! xoxo_**


	12. Chapter 12

I have barely arrived at the booth when the battle begins. The civilians in the market shriek in fear, mothers grab their children and run as the men scatter in all directions. Vendors leave their stalls abandoned. In no time, the market place is deserted except for the red coats steadily closing in on Jacob and the dead man at his feet. There are more than a dozen men, but I do not see Thomas among them. I drop to the dirty ground and peer over the counter as Jacob cracks his knuckles. Even from thirty paces away, I can hear the pops. Can he truly take on more than a dozen experienced fighters?

"Come on, boys. Let's have a little fun." Jacob taunts.

The first Ace to charge is a large, burly man with a bald head and tattooed biceps. He holds a monstrous knife in his hand, but never gets the chance to strike. Jacob sees his attack and grabs his wrist, using the man's momentum to propel him up and over his shoulder. He hits the ground with a shout of pain that morphs into a gurgle as Jacob's hidden blade punches through his jugular vein. The man's large body twitches before falling still, blood seeping from the clean slice in his throat.

"Who's next?"

Two men rush him next, and my protector pulls a massive and strangely bent blade from his belt. With a kick to one man's stomach that sends him flying backwards, Jacob jabs the blade into the other man's chest. He coughs blood that spatters directly onto Jacob's face, but the assassin is already turning to parry the attacks of another man that has come to take his comrade's place. They exchange a flurry of blows until Jacob knocks him out cold with a roundhouse kick to the head, but another man appears in the spot that was just vacated.

A hand clapping over my mouth startles me, but my muffled scream goes unheard by Jacob as he continues to ward off the Aces. An arm wraps around my shoulders, pinning my arm painfully to my side as my shoulder seems to shriek in protest. The pain is dizzying but I keep my wits about me, stomping the heel of my boot onto my assailant's toes. Thomas curses in my ear but does not let go, dragging me out of the stall and towards the carriages parked close by. No! I cannot let myself be dragged away. In a last effort to survive, I bite the palm of the hand over my mouth. He yanks it away and I spin out of his hold, but he grips my forearm and pulls me back to him. My mouth uncovered, I take my chance.

"Jacob!"

Jacob turns, his face spotted with blood. His eyes go wide with fear and then harden with determination, but the distraction affords his enemy an opening.

"No!"

I can hardly warn him as his opponent cocks an arm back and delivers a devastating punch to Jacob's jaw. Thomas continues to pull my arm, and subsequently my injured shoulder. Nauseating pain bubbles up inside of me, but I refuse to give up. Jacob has almost reached me by the time Thomas is yanking open the door of the carriage and throwing me inside.

"Jessamine! No!"

"Jacob!"

The last thing I see is an Ace tackling Jacob to the ground, with easily ten more men on his tail. The door slams, locking me inside. I pound on the door with my fist as I attempt to stabilize my shoulder, tears blurring my vision. The carriage starts to move. It is useless.

"No, no, no!"

I hear the sound of a gunshot as the carriage whips around a corner. I am alone, and all of my fighting was in vain. The adrenaline rushes out of me, leaving me with a pounding headache and a shoulder that is supplementing a constant feeling of intense nausea. My left shoulder seems to be hanging lower than my right one, and I am unable to rotate it at all without excruciating pain. Something is seriously wrong with it, it is all I can do to try to keep my arm in one position as we bump down the cobbles.

A loud bang directly above my head startles me, a shout that sounds strangely like Thomas is accompanied by a swerve of the carriage before it continues at its breakneck speed. What on Earth was that? The carriage speeds around a few more corners as I nurse my shoulder and grit my teeth against the headache. As usual, I am left feeling utterly helpless. And Jacob, I pray he is all right. The carriage starts to slow down after a moment, before completely coming to a stop. I suppose I am here, wherever "here" is. I wonder what Thomas is going to do to me.

The door is tugged open and I pull my hand back to deliver the hardest punch that I can in a final attempt at rebellion. I have never punched someone before. Will it hurt? At this point, I am already injured enough. A blow cannot do that much more damage. Someone begins to climb into the carriage, and without hesitation, I throw my fist forward as hard as I can. I punch Henry directly in the nose. Pain explodes in my knuckles as he cries out and falls backwards out of the carriage.

"Henry!"

I climb out of the carriage as fast as I can, finding Henry with his palm against the glass of his curiosity shop and the other clutching his nose.

"My God, Miss Disraeli, that was quite a blow. I do believe you broke my nose."

"I am so incredibly sorry, I thought you were Thomas!"

Through seemingly gritted teeth, he responds, "Not to worry, apology accepted. It is good to see you were taking steps to defend yourself."

He still has not turned around, which worries me. My hand is aching, I wiggle my fingers in an attempt to rid myself of the pain. My head is throbbing and my shoulder is on fire, and yet I am more concerned for him. Funny. Finally, he turns around. The front of his white assassin robes is completely covered in bright red blood, his fingers and chin having been coated as well. His nose is at a slightly crooked angle. Guilt comes in waves.

"Oh, Henry. I cannot begin to describe how horrible I feel."

"It's all right, Miss Disraeli. My nose has been broken before. Now hold on, for just one second. It's always good to set it as soon as possible."

"Set it? What do you -"

With a determined locking of his jaw, Henry firmly grasps the bridge of his nose and tugs. With a dull popping sound, his nose straightens. He grunts in pain and takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"How does it look?"

"Just like new. Although you may need a change of clothes."

"Correct. Let's go inside. Evie and Jacob should be back presently."

"Jacob! Is he all right?"

"Yes, quite fine. He has taken on more men before, and with his sister back again, the pair should make quick work of it."

"What do you mean?"

Henry unlocks and opens the door of his shop before leading me inside.

"My wife retired shortly after we married, which was just a few short months ago."

"Retirement? But she has been protecting me."

"That's correct. Your mother was quite persuasive, I must say. She wanted both of them, and at the time, your situation seemed a simple fix. Now we see that we were quite wrong."

We duck behind the red curtain and begin to climb the stairs. I stare at his back as I attempt to process what he said. I pulled Evie out of retirement?

"Do you resent me? For taking your wife from you?"

"Of course not. She made the decision to take you on, and she always sees her commitments through. It's one of the many things I love about her, and I do not resent you. The only concern I have now is… Ah. Never mind."

"What? You can tell me."

"No, I shouldn't. Evie would want to."

What on Earth could that mean? He leads me back into their bedroom and slowly removes my coat so as not to hurt my shoulder even further. I am left in a long-sleeved shirt and leather vest.

"Now, let me have a look at your shoulder. If you would remove the vest and shirt, please, so I can have a better look."

"I do not think that I can, to be honest with you. I can hardly move my arm."

"Not a problem."

He steps forward and undoes the clasps of the leather vest, slipping it off of my body before activating his hidden blade and cutting a gash in the fabric of the shirt, just above my shoulder.

"Henry, love?" comes a female voice from downstairs.

"Up here, Evie! If you and your brother could join us, it would be much appreciated."

Evie and Jacob are all right! Thank goodness. Heavy boots clomp up the stairs, which I recognize as Jacob's. How is he able to be so stealthy with boots like those? The siblings enter the room, looking a little worse for the wear. Both of them are covered in blood stains, their hair is mussed, and several cuts and bruises dot their faces. However, they are most decidedly alive.

"I believe that Jessamine's shoulder is dislocated, and I should like to examine it, if you'll take her hand, Jacob?"

Evie's eyes seem to flash with understanding as Jacob approaches me. Why on Earth does he need to hold my hand? Perhaps Henry thinks that it is hurting. Luckily for me, it only ever hurts when it gets moved. And as of now, I have kept my arm securely snug against my chest. Jacob sits down on my right side as Henry takes up his place at my left. Henry rips the fabric of my left sleeve clean off the shirt. Jacob threads his fingers through mine. Henry begins to palpate my shoulder, causing dull bursts of pain to jump my pulse.

"Now look at me, please, Jessa," Jacob starts, uncharacteristically chipper, "you were very brave today, and I want you to know that I'm very proud of -"

A loud pop and severely acute pain explodes in my shoulder. Jacob's fingers are crushed in my grip as a cry of surprise and pain propels me into his waiting arms. I do not have the slightest care that he is covered in blood, all I can feel is the pain of my shoulder. I can dimly hear him above me whispering sweet nothings into my hair. After a few moments I manage to catch my breath.

"Henry," I say into Jacob's broad chest, "I do believe that was what is considered 'retribution'."

Henry chuckles and I can hear Evie's voice, "What happened to you, Henry? You're covered in blood!"

"Miss Disraeli may have broken my nose, but I was able to reset it."

"And thus he caused me excruciating pain in revenge!"

"Nonsense," Henry says, "I simply popped your shoulder back into place. It's all better."

"It is? Then why does it still hurt?"

"That will go away soon. Now I daresay we all need to rest, it's been quite a day." Evie says.

I finally extract myself from the warmth of Jacob's chest, "What happened? How did you all end up at the market?"

"I was on my way back from Hughenden," Jacob explains, "I was told that the chauffeur had turned out to be one of our spies and had run off to the city in the night. I returned to warn you, and to try to find him."

"Thomas. That was Thomas."

Henry folds his arms as he relives the afternoon's events, "Evie and I were ambushed by two of the Templars. We would have been able to fight them off but they just happened to catch us completely by surprise. We didn't even have time to fight back before they had taken the carriage and sped away."

"So we took to the rooftops to follow you," Evie continues, "but we lost the carriage after a while. We could hear the commotion of your escape and followed the sounds."

"And by some ridiculous stroke of luck, I happened to be passing through that same market when you arrived. I didn't see you, I saw the Templars. I knew that something had to be wrong, and when the blonde one asked for a woman matching your description… But then you found me." Jacob says.

"And then the men found us," I chime in, "and while you were fighting, Thomas took me away."

"And that's when Henry and I arrived." Evie adds.

"So we split up. Evie joined Jacob and I followed your carriage. I was able to get on the roof and extricate the blonde one - Thomas, as you say his name is. I left him in the street, my main priority was to bring Miss Disraeli safely back to the shop. Otherwise I would have gone back for him."

"How did you know him, Jessamine? I recall him coming to visit you several times when we were back at the manor. Were you friends?" Evie asks.

"Er… Yes. We were friends. Close friends. His betrayal is not easy to understand."

"He was a spy, Jessa," Jacob scoffs, "everything he told you was only to get close to you."

Everything he said was a lie…? Before I can stop them tears are welling up in my eyes. Evie makes a noise of pity before shooing the two men out of the room and closing the door before settling herself on the bed beside me. After I regain control of my emotions, Evie wraps a comforting arm around my shoulders.

"He was more than a friend, wasn't he?"

The immediate return of the tears is all the answer she needs before pulling me into a hug.

"I'm so sorry, Jessamine. Your heart must be in pieces."

"It is," I sniff into her shoulder, "I thought he cared about me."

"I know, I know. But you have to take that sadness and channel it into determination. He was only out to hurt you, and now I can give you the power to hurt him back. We'll start training tomorrow, how does that sound?"

"An outlet for my anger does sound therapeutic."

"Remember, you have pants on your side. You're a strong woman, and we can teach you to fight just like I can."

"I would like that. I want to be able to defend myself."

"From the look of my husband's stained clothing, you're more than capable of doing so."

We both giggle before she helps me redress. Linking an arm through mine, Evie pulls me up from the bed, leading me downstairs. Just like she said, the pain in my shoulder has already dulled to a soft ache that is very manageable. My headache is receding, and my knuckles only hurt when I clench them. All in all, I believe it is safe to say that I have survived this day.

"Rest up tonight, Jessamine. Your head needs a reprieve from the trauma it has endured. Tomorrow you'll feel much better, but stop training if it starts to hurt, all right?"

"All right. Thank you, Evie. For everything."

"You're more than welcome. I'm here for you any time you need me."

We push through the red curtain to find Henry and Jacob absently biding time, Henry having resumed his dusting and Jacob reading a book about the Americas. Both have changed their clothes and washed up, and Henry has taped a pad of sorts over his nose to keep it in place. They both look up when we enter however, and Henry picks up a familiar brown paper package from his desk. My pencils.

"These were still in the carriage, luckily."

"Oh, thank you. I was worried I had lost them."

"There's canvas paper in the bottom right drawer of the desk in your train car, Jessamine. Feel free to use as much as you want." Evie says.

"Thank you, I will."

"Off you go, then! The sun has set and you two need to get back to the train. Agnes knew to pick you up at Whitechapel, so she would have been circling every fifteen minutes. You can catch her."

"Well then," Jacob says, picking up the trunk Evie packed for me and lifting it with ease, "ladies first."

 ** _hi! i hope you enjoyed! we finally got to see jacob kick some templar butt ;P anyways, if you enjoyed, please favorite and follow the story and let me know how you liked it! i always enjoy seeing your wonderful reviews. thank you so very much for reading, i'll see you in the next chapter!_**


	13. Chapter 13

_**There is a training maneuver taught in this chapter that can very easily become hard to follow. For your reference, here is a link to a video in which the technique is explained with examples!** **watch?v=q2OAJF_P2w**_

 ** _UPDATE: I have received a few messages that the link is not taking you to the intended video. If you would prefer to search it, the title of the video is "A Mount Escape that Works Against Larger Opponents" published by Youtube user Stephan Kesting. Please don't hesitate to let me know if you still cannot find it! Happy reading :)_**

The next morning dawns with a whistle from the train, rousing me from heartbreaking dreams of Thomas. I lay in bed for a moment, reliving the bittersweet memories of unrequited love. I let them slip away, dragging my soul back to the present. Today is the day. I get to start my training with Jacob! I need to push Thomas out of my mind and focus on myself. Yesterday's events only added to the list of reasons for teaching me self defense. I wonder what we will do?

I begin to dress — all by myself, may I add — in black pants and black leather boots that climb up to mid-thigh. I choose a black silk shirt and a dark red leather vest, selecting a red coat that is fitted at the waist and goes down to meet the top of the boots. The cotton corset is unbelievably simple to lace up, I find myself wishing I had found out about the garment earlier in life. Dressed and ready for the day ahead, I reach behind the bed and pick up the cane from where it has been stowed. Its weight in my hand is strangely reassuring. The only thing left to do is my hair, which I have not quite mastered yet. Perhaps Agnes would be willing to do it for me.

I unlock my door and tug it open, finding that, as per usual, the rest of the doors on the train have been flung open as well. Jacob is an early riser, even earlier than I am. I bridge the gap with a small jump, landing on the other side with much more stability than the past few days. The concussion must be finally wearing off, just like Evie said. The sound of the train on the tracks is not making my head pound.

"Good morning, dear. I heard about your adventures yesterday, how are you doing?"

"I am doing well, Agnes, thank you. You wouldn't mind doing my hair again, would you?"

"Of course, dear, of course. Come sit down."

She kindly vacates her seat for me. I sit and she begins to comb her fingers through my hair.

"I understand Mr. Frye will be teaching you a little of what he does best?"

"It would seem so. I am awfully excited, in truth. I saw him in combat for the first time just yesterday, and he was positively deadly. I wonder if I have the same fire within me?"

"If there's anything I've noticed about you in these past few days," a voice from the door says, "it's that you're full of surprises."

I turn to the door to find Jacob leaning against the frame, munching on an apple. His eyes flash with appreciation as Agnes finishes my hair and helps me out of the chair. Suddenly, under his steady gaze, I feel rather bashful again in my new clothes.

"Well, how do I look?"

"Good enough to eat."

His husky voice turns me to mush, I almost drop the apple he tosses to me. He takes another big bite out of his as if to emphasize his point before beckoning me closer. He holds out a strip of leather to me.

"For the cane."

My very first strap! Before my brain has fully recovered from the intoxicating effects of his voice, he steps forward so close to me I can feel his warmth. His hands encircle my body as he wraps the strap around my waist. I resist every impulse telling me to lean into him. He fastens the buckle so it fits snugly, a loop on the strap on my left hip an indicator of where the cane belongs. I slip it through the loop, its handle catching it and holding it in place along my left thigh.

"How does that feel?"

I can hardly concentrate when he is so close to me. I back up a few steps and smile up at him.

"Perfect."

He smiles back, a slow lazy smile that brings with it the fiery feeling I only ever experience when I am around Jacob. Get a hold of yourself, Jessamine!

"Are you ready for your first lesson?"

"As ready as I can be!"

"Good. This one will be fun."

He shifts to allow me to walk past him and out onto the edge of the train. I can feel the breeze attempting to pull my hair from its braids, but Agnes plaited it well.

"Betsy never moves too fast because Agnes knows about our coming and going habits. The trick to this is to jump in the direction the train is going, so your body doesn't take more force than it needs to and you don't end up backwards. When you really start to know what you're doing, you'll be able to land on your feet and walk it off. But when you're… you, you'll have to roll. Make sure you jump forwards, not straight up. Lead with your left shoulder, drop to the ground, and let your body roll the way it wants to roll. Try to avoid the train tracks, those hurt."

I swallow the thick lump in my throat, "We're going to be jumping? Off… Off of the train?"

"Yes, Miss Disraeli. You managed to outrun a dozen men with a dislocated shoulder, don't go soft on me now."

"I am not going soft!"

"Prove it. You'll go first."

I gaze at the tracks flying by beneath my feet before setting my jaw. If Evie can do it, I can do it. I am a strong, independent woman!

"Remember, jump forwards and to your left, in the direction the train is going. Lead with your left shoulder, tuck and roll. Aim for the dirt just here, don't overshoot or you'll hit those tracks."

There are another set of train tracks running parallel to ours, with about a six foot gap in between the two. I take another deep breath before tensing my feet, preparing to jump. We really are not going that fast, now that I think about it. This will be easy. A piece of cake. A walk in the park.

"Stop overthinking it, Jessamine. You'll only make it worse."

"I am not overthinking."

He sighs, "We don't have all day and there is much I'd like to show you. Don't stall."

"Right! Right. One… Two… Three!"

Before I lose my nerve, I launch myself off of the platform. The world becomes a blur around me. I almost completely abandon all rational thought until the next step pops into head. Tuck and roll! Twisting in the direction of my left shoulder, I just barely manage to put my shoulder out front before the dirt is rushing up to meet me. I hit the ground. Instead of locking up like I did when I leapt from the carriage, I pull my limbs in and allow my body to follow its momentum and roll forward. The impact almost knocks the breath out of me, but it is significantly less harsh compared to my other experience of exiting a moving vehicle. After many more turns and bumps, my momentum finally runs out. I flop onto my back, dazed. The sky is blue and clear above me, with white clouds as puffy as candy floss. I did it! I jumped from a moving train without sustaining bodily injury!

Jacob's worried face appears over me, his brows creased.

"Jessamine, are you all right?"

"Yes, actually. Quite all right."

"That's a first."

He grins before dropping down in the dirt next to me. He stretches one arm over his head and gazes up at the clouds as the train chugs steadily by. I watch him out of the corner of my eye.

"I'm rather impressed. You did well, for a lady."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, your form could use a little work, and your - oof!"

He is rather roughly cut off by my fist thumping into his stomach.

"I did not die, and I would like to hear something complimentary out of you. Take it back."

Jacob props himself up on his elbow, peering into my face with a mischievous look in his eye.

"Make me."

"All right, but you cannot say I didn't warn you."

I sit up and execute my attack, thrusting my fingers forward and tickling his neck. He lets out a cry of surprise that quickly dissolves into laughter as he falls back to the dirt, trying to push my hands away from his neck. I climb on top of him to get better leverage, refusing to stop my assault.

"Take it back!" I demand.

"All right, all right! I take it back!"

I release him and sit back on my heels, placing my hands on my hips and glaring down at him with all the anger I can manage.

"And _what_ about my form?"

"There's your mistake. Never expose yourself!"

He sits up, throwing me flat on my back and tickling my sides. Pushing against his arms is like pushing against metal bars, completely immovable.

"Jacob! Jacob Frye, stop this minute! You… you brute!"

Jacob mercifully stops tickling me with an amused chuckle.

"It appears that Evie told you my weakness."

"Would you mind climbing off of me?"

"I wouldn't dream of it. This is your first lesson."

He doesn't release me, assuming the position I had over him before. With his knees straddling my hips, he plants his hands on either side of my head. He gazes down at me, steady and unyielding.

"Now, Jessamine. When your attacker has you pinned, what do you do?"

Adrenaline instantly sparks inside of me. He is going to teach me how to defend myself! Just as suddenly, I realize that I have absolutely no idea what to do. I follow the first instinct I have, planting my feet and pushing my hips up into his. He barely moves.

He grins down at me, "That was a good start, and it would have worked if our positions were switched. Unfortunately, you aren't as big as I am. I weigh more, you won't be able to push me off of you. Try something else."

"Um… Maybe this?"

Experimentally, I push the heel of my hand into his elbow.

"That won't destabilize your assailant, his palm is still firmly planted on the ground. It'll only distract him for a few seconds, if anything. Think of it this way. I am currently distributing my weight on four different places. My hands, and my knees. While aiming for my hands likely seems like the easier option, it won't do anything about the fact that I still have your waist pinned. You need to aim for my knees."

"I haven't the slightest idea what to do."

He chuckles, "You give up easily, don't you?"

"I do not!"

"You're very cute when you're upset. I find I have a hard time taking you seriously."

"Jacob," I pout, "you cannot expect me to escape from beneath you if I have never been pinned down before. That is why we are training in the first place."

He rolls his eyes, "Fair point. Pin me and I'll show you."

Rather gracefully, he leans off of me and lands on his back beside me. I sit up, throwing my leg over his waist and placing my hands beside his head. My body betrays me for only a moment as I remember the last time I was in such a position. With Thomas. Thoughts of him immediately invade my head, from the feeling of his gentle hands on my body to the feeling of those same hands throwing me into a hijacked carriage.

"Are you all right?"

"I… Yes. I am fine."

He gives me a look that says 'Jessamine, you're a bloody awful liar', but does not stop to question me, for which I am grateful. I do not know how I would explain Thomas to him.

"If you say so. Now. You're pinned by an attacker that's much bigger than you. The first step is to position your limbs correctly to execute your escape. One leg bent and foot planted on the ground, the other kept straight. And one elbow needs to be forced between you and your attacker's knee."

He demonstrates, wedging his right elbow in between my left knee and his body. I feel his hips shift beneath me as he bends his left leg.

"Next thing to do is follow the instinct you first had to push up into your opponent, but you won't be pushing him off of you so much as you'll be rotating your body into a more advantageous position. You should only move yourself so you aren't flat on your back. But if you go too far, you'll expose your spine."

He uses his bent left leg and pushes up into me, rotating slightly to the right.

"Take the bent left leg and cross it far over your right, so I can hook your left foot and trap your leg."

I feel him shift beneath me again, his foot coming down by my right ankle and pressing it into his right leg. He uses his foot to nudge mine up and over his right leg, trapping it.

"Now, I use my elbow to push my hand up into you, allowing my leg to come up past your knee."

He extends the arm pinned between my knee and his body, his palm pressing into my hip and lifting my knee off of the ground. He sweeps his leg beneath the knee, bringing it forward.

"I bring my right arm up and over you, using it as leverage to shift my base."

He hooks his right arm over me, pivoting beneath me until he is lying on his back again. My foot is now completely trapped between his legs. I immediately see the outlet he has created.

"So all you would have to do is pull your other leg through?"

"Correct."

Jacob executes the move, bracing the freed right foot against my hip and using the leverage to pull his left leg out from beneath me. He pushes against my hips with both feet, sending me backwards and setting him free.

"Do you understand?" he asks, sitting up.

"Yes, I believe I do. May I try it?"

"Of course."

I lay down on the ground again, and he pins me. I run through all of the steps he showed me in my head before meeting his eyes.

"Ready?" Jacob asks.

"Ready."

I bend my left leg and wedge my right elbow in between his knee and my waist. I push up into him and rotate my body to the right, bringing my left leg over my right leg and trapping his left foot. I pull it back over my right leg and keep it securely trapped. Extending my wedged arm, I push the heel of my hand into his hip and pull my leg up through the gap I have created. I use the extended arm to hook over his back, pulling down and swinging myself onto my back and pulling my left leg out from beneath him. I bend my knees to push against his hips, sliding away from him and sitting up. Slightly out of breath, I fix my hair and gaze at him, waiting for his approval.

"We need to give you more of a challenge, hm?"

 ** _hi! i hope you enjoyed! thank you to those that have favorited/followed the story, and have left kind reviews! i really, really appreciate your feedback - please continue to give it. i hope that the techniques in the story were easy enough to follow, i've found that attempting to transfer a technical maneuver into writing is rather difficult. hopefully the video helped! as always, thank you so very much for reading. i'll see you in the next chapter! :)_**


	14. Chapter 14

"Harder!"

"I'm trying!"

"Then try harder."

"Oh, honestly, Jacob! Could we practice something else?"

"As you wish."

One second I am pounding my fists into the palms of his hands, and the next, I am flat on my back in the dirt.

"Oof! I did not mean that quite so literally."

He chuckles above me, purposefully squashing me with his weight. "This is much more fun than I thought it would be."

"Yes, I am sure _you_ are enjoying yourself."

Jacob does something that I would never, ever have expected him to do. He reaches out a finger and gently taps the edge of my nose. Before, I would have been stunned into smitten silence. But if Jacob has taught me anything today, it would be to never expose yourself. And now that he is distracted and leaning onto only one hand, I act with the minimal training I have received. I trap his left leg and hook my right arm around his body, pulling him downwards and using my left leg to push my body up and over his. Triumphantly, I gaze down at him with arms crossed over my chest and knees on either side of his hips. He stares up at me, a look I have never seen before on his face. Shock.

"That… That was good. Very good."

"Thank you, Sir Frye." I grin smugly down at him.

"All right now, don't get cocky."

Just as quickly as I managed to pin him, he grasps my forearms, pulling down as he pushes his hips up. I cannot hold in my scream as I am flipped over his head, thumping to the ground. The wind is knocked out of me, it takes me a moment to gather my bearings.

"That was mean." I wheeze.

"Just reminding you who's in charge here."

I crane my neck to look at him. He is on his feet, arms folded. Even looking at him upside down, I can see his arrogant gaze and smug smirk. I see in him the Jacob I despised on the first day we met, the crude and egotistical man that spoke my name as if it was an insult. And now? He is a gentle giant that taps my nose and reads me poetry. I would trust him with my life, as I have several times already.

He laughs. A genuine sound, not the teasing chuckle I am used to hearing. The arrogance melts away as he approaches, his gait light and his eyes warm. He stands over me, holding out a hand. I accept it and he pulls me to my feet.

"Done for the day? There's something we need to do before sunset." he says, smiling down at me with a mischievous gleam in his brown eyes.

"Lead the way, Sir."

"Of course, Miss Disraeli. Just a few steps this way."

A few steps? He leads me over the train tracks to the edge of the overpass. I peer over the ledge at the cobbles below.

"Um. Here?"

"This is the first stop. How would you like to fly?"

"I do believe you may have gone mad."

I giggle at him and he rolls his eyes before turning his wrist over and showing me the bottom of the Assassin gauntlet. He points to the grappling hook Evie showed me.

"This is a grappling hook. When it's engaged, you flex the thumb out to activate it, and curl it back in to get it to retract. It's a rather useful little gadget."

"Evie said I could not use one if I was not in the Brotherhood."

"Well, luckily for us, I'll be the one using it. You're just along for the ride."

"Me? Us? Both of us? Can it hold our weight?"

"It's made of a flexible steel cable that's more than capable. You'll have to hold on to me, though. Can you manage?"

"Of course."

I watch as he points his hand at the building below us, across the road. Jacob flexes his thumb outwards. The grappling hook shoots out of the gauntlet and flies over the street, burying itself into the side of the building's chimney. He extends an end piece out of the gauntlet and attaches it to the overpass railing. Jacob strides to the very edge of the overpass, holding out his other arm. Before I lose my nerve, I step up to him and wrap my arms around his neck as his arm closes around my waist.

"Ready?"

"I think so."

Jacob tugs the cable once with his hand to show me that it is safe before his grip tightens on my waist. The street is dizzyingly far below us. Though I am not afraid of heights, I am rather afraid of falling from said heights onto the hard cobblestones below.

"Hold on tight."

Just as I tighten my arms around his neck he leaps from the overpass, and we are flying. The cable whirs above our heads as we soar down to the roof of the building, the wind blowing through my hair and the road passing by far beneath my feet. I cannot help but let out a cry of delight at the weightless feeling, I hear Jacob's chuckle in my ear. We approach the chimney faster and faster.

"Remember, Jessamine. Tuck and roll!"

As the flat top of the roof zooms closer, I prepare myself to release. I can do this. Just like the train. Right as we reach the edge of the roof, Jacob is telling me to let go. I do with barely a pause. The roof rushes up to meet me, but I lead with my left shoulder and hit the roof with barely even a thud. I roll several times before coming to a stop and sitting up.

"How did I do?"

"Brilliantly, of course." Jacob says, extracting the grappling hook from the chimney. He returns his thumb to a resting position and the cable recoils itself with ease. The hook clicks back into place.

"Now then. We have to make it to the top of Saint Paul's Cathedral before sunset. Do you think we can manage?"

Looking out over the skyline, I see the cathedral perhaps five blocks away. I nod excitedly to Jacob, who smiles at me.

"All right then. We need to climb down from here, first."

I swallow, "Climb down?"

"Tell me you can scale a simple building. This one is easy! I picked it for you."

I cannot stop now. From learning the beginning stages of combat to leaping from a moving train, I do not want the day to end. The building is only three stories, much shorter than the majority of London's edifices. If Jacob believes I could do it, then why not trust him? Trusting him has worked out rather well for me thus far. After all, I am still alive.

"Well, I suppose I could do it."

"Come on, I'll tell you where to put your hands."

He promptly turns around and leaps off of the building.

"Jacob!"

I rush to the edge and peer over, expecting to find the splattered remains of Jacob Frye on the sidewalk. I should really know better at this point; I discover him looking up at me from a small balcony one story below. The breath I had been holding sighs out of me in relief.

"Do you trust me?" he asks, looking up at me with his usual smirk.

"Of course I do."

"Then turn your back and fall. I'll catch you."

"I… I do not know if that is such a good idea."

"Come on. You have to be brave to be an Assassin. You've come so far in a single day!"

"To be an Assassin?"

He grins up at me, "You do want to be one, don't you?"

Do I? An Assassin? Scale buildings and shoot poison darts? Wear pants every day? Fight alongside him, kill people…

"You think I could?"

"I'm rarely ever wrong."

"I… I am not sure."

He raises an eyebrow, "What's there to think about? A lady will powder her face until it is as white as snow, marry young, and then have children until her body no longer functions. No independence, no strength. Is that the life you want for yourself, Jessamine?"

"I do not know!"

He folds his arms, gazing up at me with an unyielding expression. "You can't tell me you'd rather go back to Hughenden and live out the rest of your days doodling and eating almond cakes."

"That is all I have ever known! I did not even know there was another way to live until just a few days ago. I have been trapped in a manor in the countryside all my life! To powder my face and to marry young… It is what is expected of me, Jacob. I cannot turn my back on the life my parents have given me. They have worked hard to ensure my happiness."

"And that life is what is going to make you happy?"

I know that Mother would be less than approving of me moving to London to wear pants and murder villains. But being here in the city with Jacob and Evie and Henry… These past few days have been the most exciting and memorable days of my life. I have felt things I have never felt before. I feel alive. And deep down inside, I know that I would choose my new life here.

"No. It is not."

I cannot believe I just said that aloud. But it is true. I haven't the slightest clue how I will go back home after this. I have experienced so much in such a short amount of time, and I do not want to give it up. Jacob smiles at me, holding his arms out.

"Then fall."

Slowly, I turn away from him. I gaze out at London's skyline, the late afternoon sun hitting the glass windows of its buildings and making the city appear to be on fire. Smoke fills the sky from the factories on every block and the ships drifting down the River Thames. I can see a train chugging along the tracks, carriages making their way up and down the streets. Londoners bustling about the sidewalks, each person living a story as detailed and intricate as my own. The city is beautiful. Teeming with life and possibility.

And as I stand here on a rooftop, gazing out at the vast expanse before me, I find myself falling in love with the city and the life that it has given me a glimpse of. I can envision sleeping on the train, wearing my beloved pants day in and day out, bonding with Evie and exploring the city with Jacob. Before, all that kept me sane was Thomas. Without him, that life will be empty. Luncheons and balls, tight corsets and "doodles", as Jacob so affectionately called them. Now I have a chance to make something of myself. I intend to take that chance.

Taking a breath of London air, I turn my face to the sky and let go of my past. As the wind rushes through my hair and my stomach reacts to the feeling of weightlessness, I embrace nothing but the future and what it has to offer me. And seconds later, when I land in strong arms, I have made my decision. Jacob's facial expression tells me that he knows it too. He lowers me to my feet.

"How did that feel?"

"It felt… freeing. Thank you."

He smiles at me, backing towards the edge of the balcony, "That fire was always within you, Jessamine. You just hadn't had the chance to free it yet."

I suppose he is right. It warms my heart to see the amount of confidence he has in me. With Jacob's faith, how can I go wrong?

"One floor down, two to go. Now, the first step when descending a wall is to look for obvious footholds."

Jacob beckons me closer, "What do you see?"

I peer over the edge of the balcony, "I see a street sign, and several windows with ledges."

"Very good. That's what we'll be using. Watch."

He hops up and over the railing of the balcony, facing me. With a small salute and the wink of an eye that pulls the scar on his eyebrow, he kicks his feet out and lets go of the railing. He catches the bottom of the ledge with his fingers, using his momentum to swing himself underneath the balcony and grasp the top of the window. Then, in seemingly the blink of an eye, he systematically drops from window ledge to window ledge until he hits the ground. He looks up at me, shading his eyes with his hand.

"Your turn!" Jacob calls.

"You made that look rather easy!" I yell back down to him, nervousness bubbling up in my stomach.

"Only because it is," he responds, "chop chop! I'm right below you, I'll catch you if you fall."

All right. I can do this. Slowly, I raise one leg over the railing, followed by the other. Now, there is no protection between my body and the hard cobblestones below. I just have to use my momentum like Jacob did. Taking a very deep, calming breath, I kick my legs out and let go of the railing. Just as I begin to fall, my fingers land on the edge of the balcony. I grip hard, dangling like laundry on a clothesline.

"Swing forward to meet the side of the building!" Jacob shouts up at me.

Channelling the adrenaline coursing through me, I grit my teeth and swing my legs forwards and backwards, gathering momentum to make the leap. At the last second, I release the balcony edge and follow my feet, hitting the side of the building and scrambling to find purchase. The toes of my boots hit the ledge of the first window, my fingers barely gripping the thin window frame. Now I just have to grab and release several more times until I hit the ground. I can do this. I push my feet out from the ledge again, letting go of the window frame and dropping down several more meters before I grasp a window ledge with my fingers. They almost slip, my heart squeezes with panic before I stabilize myself once more.

"You're doing great, Jessa. Almost there!"

Jacob's reassurance steels my nerves, renewing my courage. I repeat the motion of sliding down the wall, likely looking as graceful as a flightless bird attempting to flap its wings. I glance down after my feet have hit their mark once more, finding that the ground is quite literally one meter below me. I jump, hitting the ground with a satisfying thud, before turning around to face Jacob. His face breaks into a grin as he applauds my efforts. I perform a little bow and we both laugh, before he beckons me to follow him. We set off down the sidewalk side by side, receiving a few curious stares from passersby.

"Jacob, what if we run into our friends out here on the street?"

"Nothing to worry about, Jessamine. We scared them well enough at our last meeting. We shouldn't be seeing them for a few more days."

"Oh."

We walk along in silence. I absorb the sights and sounds of the city, something I still am not entirely accustomed to. Children running through the streets entirely unsupervised, women at the edges of dark alleyways luring men into their beds. It is all rather new, and very exciting. Jacob appears to know the city like the back of his hand, weaving through the crowds and ducking into side streets as shortcuts. Before I know it, we have emerged in Festival Gardens, the massive cathedral looming at the end of the green grass.

"We have to hurry, the sun is going to set soon."

"Why does that matter?"

"It's your first time watching the sunset in the city. It has to be special."

That is what the rush was about? Getting to the top of the cathedral so I could see a London sunset? That is… very sweet. Jacob leads me through the gardens and right up to the side of the cathedral. The structure is so large I have to crane my neck all the way back to glimpse its peak.

"Are you ready to fly again?"

It is quickly becoming clear to me why the grappling hook is Evie's favorite gadget. Jacob holds out his arm once more, and I step into his embrace easily. Bracing my arms around his neck, he flexes his thumb and the device shoots upwards, arcing into the sun and lodging itself at the top of the crest of the first level of the cathedral. Preparing myself for the feeling of soaring through the air, he closes his thumb and the device whizzes us upwards. I keep my eyes wide open, watching as the ground recedes below us and we become taller than the trees. We land on the rooftop of the building, and I follow Jacob across the rooftop to the domed ceiling of the cathedral itself. I catch sight of our shadows, his much larger than mine, striding along the surface of the roof. It is a rather surreal feeling, to be walking on the rooftops. We stop at the base of the dome, its peak still high above our heads. We are pulled up to the top by the grappling hook, and the sight I am met with nearly takes my breath away.

I had thought I could not be more in love with London, but I see how wrong I was. The sun has indeed begun to set, turning the brick buildings a rich shade of red and casting a deep yellow glow on the city. The sun glints on the window panes, sifting through the smoke from the smokestacks and giving the sky a hazy orange tone. It looks like a dream.

"Jacob, this is beautiful."

"The first time I ever stopped to appreciate the sunset was right here." he says from behind me.

I turn to look at him but find his gaze already on me. His smile is soft and gentle, much like the warm sun.

"Thank you for bringing me here."

"It's the least I could do to reward you for your hard work today."

"Thank you for that, too. Today was amazing."

"That was only a taste of what's to come. You're very promising, Jessamine."

I know that he is referring to my career as a budding Assassin, something that I am afraid of committing to.

"Do you really think I could do it? Be an Assassin?"

"I know you could. I sensed it when you asked about learning to defend yourself, all the way back at Hughenden when you'd just gotten your concussion. I saw that determined spirit within you, the willingness to fight for yourself. The fire. You have a gift. You've taken to all of it so naturally, with a resolve to succeed that has impressed me since the moment we met. When you glared at me at that brunch table, I knew you were a woman to be reckoned with."

"A woman, hm? Not a lady?"

"No," he says, folding his large arms and regarding me with dark eyes, "not a lady."

I place a hand to my heart, "That is the nicest thing you have ever said to me, Mr. Frye."

Jacob chuckles, "It's well deserved."

His demeanor suddenly shifts, growing serious. He takes a step forward, looking down at me with a solemn expression.

"Are you all right?"

"I have to ask you something." he says cryptically.

After gazing at me for another moment, he lowers to the ground on his right knee.

"I, Jacob Frye, Master Assassin of the British Brotherhood, summon you, Jessamine Disraeli, to join the Order. To work in the dark to serve the light, to commit your life to safeguarding the freedom of humanity. Do you accept?"

"Yes."

 ** _yay, it's official! our very own china doll is going to become a trained killer. hope you enjoyed this chapter, let me know what you think in the reviews! please remember to favorite/follow! thank you for your everlasting support of this story, i am so enjoying writing it and there are many more surprises to come! xoxo_**


	15. Chapter 15

The next morning dawns with the sound of the train's whistle. I lay in my bed for a few moments, listening to the noises of the train. The steady chugging, the occasional screeches and groans of its brakes. I can feel when it curves around corners, the stable movements comforting. I lay flat on my back, gazing up at the ceiling.

Yesterday, standing atop Saint Paul's Cathedral in the light of the setting sun, I made the decision that will forever change my life. The prospective future stretches far out in front of me, filled with memories I cannot wait to create. My life will finally have a purpose. Being with Thomas was the only thing that made me feel alive back at Hughenden. Each day was just like the others. Now, in London, I have unlocked an entirely new side of myself. Strong, independent, brave. I had no idea I would ever be capable of doing the things I did yesterday, and I would not have discovered any of this without Jacob. He has given me new feelings and adventures I could not have even dreamed of experiencing just several days ago. And now he has bestowed upon me the chance to give my life meaning. I do not have to be an empty-headed noble from a manor in the countryside. I could be an Assassin. Safeguard the freedom of humanity, like Jacob told me last night. I can learn to fight. Not only to defend myself, but to defend the citizens of London. I know that Mother and Father may not approve, but to be frank, I do not think I care anymore. The opportunity I have been given is too good to give up. I do not want to go back home and forget about what I have experienced here.

Resolving myself to my decision, I stand and stretch. My body finally seems to have healed itself, my head feels normal and my shoulder does not hurt. The wound on my head has scabbed over, and I know that there will be a rather impressive scar hidden beneath my hair for the rest of my life. The scab on my palm has rubbed off in my adventures, leaving behind a thin, pale rift in my skin. My first scar. Judging from the looks of Jacob's chest, the first of many.

I wander along the walls of my train car unlatching the metal window covers and pushing them upwards. Dim light spills into the room, surprising me. It must be no earlier than six o' clock in the morning. That is strange, I usually never wake up this early. I couldn't possibly go back to bed now. I suppose I shall have to see if Jacob is awake. I get dressed, reveling in the feeling of the pants on my legs. I paid attention to Agnes yesterday, hopefully allowing me to replicate the hairstyle. I comb through my hair with my fingers before splitting it into two sections and braiding each one. Then I loop them together, twisting the braids under and over each other until they stay in place. Evie's hairstyle is highly practical, now that I think about it. No pins or ribbons, easy to do anywhere, even without a mirror. I hope that I look all right.

I unlock my door and slide the bolt. I tug it open, met with the sight of Jacob's closed door. He is an early riser, but evidently I beat him to the punch today. Agnes must not be here yet, my understanding is that the train pulls into a station close to her home and she gets on for the day's work. What shall I do? Do I knock? I would not want to wake him. Perhaps I should just -

The door to his car flings open in the blink of an eye, and I am met with the sight of a very muscular man wearing only a pair of short cotton pants. A blush immediately ignites in my cheeks, I cannot help but be drawn to his broad chest and muscular arms. Jacob does not even notice me at first, he is too busy letting out a monstrous yawn and rubbing his bleary eyes. When he refocuses, his eyes alight on the figure standing before him.

"Ah. Good morning, Jessamine."

He turns away from me, leaving the door open. His gait is slow and sleepy as he makes his way to the door at the opposite end of the car. He rubs the back of his neck, I notice the way the muscles in his back bunch and flex as he does so. I hop over the gap in the train car, feeling almost intrusive as I observe his morning routine from Agnes's desk.

"Did you sleep well?" Jacob asks as he turns around, stretching his arms high above his head.

"Yes, thank you. And you?"

"Like a baby." he quips, leaning down to fold the blanket on his couch.

"What is on our agenda for today?" I ask, watching as he goes about making his bed.

"You're to be stolen away from me by my dear sister for some training."

Stolen away. I wonder what we will do? Jacob finishes folding the blanket. He places it on the couch and sets the pillow on top of it before turning to me.

"If you wouldn't mind turning around, darling. I'd like to get dressed."

The blush I had just managed to contain comes back in full force, "Oh, of course!"

I turn towards the window, gazing out at the rooftops just barely being touched with golden light from the rising sun. I ponder the nickname he has given me on several occasions. Darling.

"What's got you up so early?" his voice asks from behind me.

"Nothing in particular," I respond, "just thinking about my life's purpose, betrayal, my parents' approval. Very light topics."

He chuckles, "Light, indeed. Care to elaborate?"

"It is nothing. My mind is still wrapping itself around the idea of having something to live for other than weekly rendezvous."

"Weekly rendezvous," he purrs, "sounds interesting."

Did I just say that aloud?

"It was not, really, in comparison to my life now."

"And these weekly rendezvous… Am I sensing a sinful impurity?"

I am glad I am turned towards the window, he cannot see my guilty expression. I do not know what to say, but apparently my silence is enough of an answer.

"Miss Disraeli, I'm shocked! A proper young lady engaging in amorous congress! And I thought you really were an innocent little thing."

The train car goes silent except for the sound of the wheels pounding down the rails. Hot tears pool in my eyes as I think of the mistake I made with the man that never really loved me. I had been taught to save myself for marriage, but something about Thomas made me throw all logic out the window. I had loved him. I still love him. He breathed life into my dull existence. He was all that I had.

A large hand on my shoulder distracts me from my thoughts. Jacob turns me towards him as I quickly swipe the tears from my cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Whatever happened then, it's all in the past. You don't have to tell me anything."

"I - I am sorry to be so sensitive about the topic, but the thought that I gave myself to a man that did not love me is still too much to bear."

My voice breaks and the tears spill over. I furiously wipe them away, but I cannot staunch the flow.

"Bloody hell, Jessamine. You're ripping my heart out. Please don't cry."

Jacob reaches forward and rather awkwardly pulls me in to his embrace. I can tell that he doesn't give hugs very often, but his attempt to comfort me is rather admirable. I feel… dirty. Sullied. Contaminated by Thomas. I can still feel his touch all over my body, and the feeling is disgusting.

"I feel so tarnished, Jacob. I was going to save myself for marriage, and I had plans. Hopes. Dreams of love. I threw it all away simply because he was the only thing that gave my life excitement. I was not thinking."

My throat closes up before I can continue. I am finally allowing myself to process the loss of my first love, and the feeling is most unpleasant.

"You aren't tarnished. You are not defined by your first experience with a man, Jessa. Those dreams aren't broken. You just have to find someone else to dream about."

"Who could possibly want me now?"

"I want you. Er… _Would_ want you, that is. Just like any other man with eyes."

"Do you truly mean that?"

"Of course I do. You're beautiful and strong. Kind, brave. Whoever this man was, he was a fool to give you up. Especially now that you're learning to knock a man on his arse."

"Thank you, Jacob. Truly. You have given me a chance to make something of myself, and I am very grateful."

"Don't thank me yet. Just wait until training starts."

"To be truthful, I do not think I will hate a single moment, no matter how grueling it becomes."

We are interrupted by the squeal of brakes as the train begins to slow. He releases me, using the pad of his thumb to rub tears from my cheeks.

"Why are we stopping?"

"To pick up Agnes and Evie. We're in Whitechapel."

The door to the dining cabin is thrown open by a short, tired-looking man with floppy, dark brown hair and blue eyes. He is dressed for the day in the standard Rook colors.

"Mornin' Jacob, Miss Disraeli. Breakfast will be ready soon."

"Thank you, Alan."

Alan inclines his head before disappearing back into the car.

"Who is that?" I ask.

"Alan Bates. He owned a bar in a rough part of town when Starrick was around, and it went under. He wasn't able to get back on his feet, so we gave him a bunk here on the train in exchange for making us meals. He makes a mean bangers and mash."

"Bangers and mash? What in the world is that?"

Jacob's eyes widen, "Jessamine Disraeli, you mean to tell me you've never eaten bangers and mash?"

"I cannot say that I have."

The train rolls to a stop with a screech from the brakes, and seconds later Agnes and Evie are climbing aboard.

"Good morning, you two," Evie grins at us, "beautiful day, is it not?"

"Beautiful indeed." Jacob responds, casually stepping in front of me to give me a chance to collect myself. I hope my eyes are not too red, if the women were to notice a spectacle would surely follow.

"Is Alan almost ready with breakfast? I'm rather hungry." Evie says, attempting to peer around Jacob's hulking frame. I have dried my eyes and fanned my face enough to clear suspicion, hopefully.

I step out from behind my bodyguard with the sunniest of smiles, "I am rather hungry as well. Shall we go check on his progress?"

If Evie notices anything, she does not say a word. Agnes takes her seat at the desk, patting my arm as she passes. The three of us hop across the gap one after the other as the train starts to move down the tracks once more. Alan is just plating our breakfast when we arrive. I take a seat next to Jacob in the booth, Evie across from us. Alan passes around plates of crisp bacon and buttered toast. He sets out three smaller dishes with an egg on each, and a bowl of chopped melon. The teapot and accompanying cream and sugar are placed at the center of the table, along with three dainty tea cups.

"Anything else for you?" he asks, clasping his hands behind his back.

"No, thank you, Alan," Evie says, "I've rather missed your cooking."

"Thank you, Miss Evie. Good day to you."

Alan retreats to the bar at the other end of the train car to polish some glasses, leaving us to enjoy our meal. We all eat in silence for a few moments before Evie initiates conversation.

"What adventures did you two embark on yesterday?"

"Jessamine and I engaged in some hand-to-hand combat, after which I introduced her to our friend the grappling hook."

"And he showed me how to scale a building!" I exclaim, the statement bursting from my lips much more excitably than I had intended.

Evie chuckles, "That sounds rather thrilling."

"Oh, yes. I had a wonderful time. Jacob is an excellent teacher."

"And Jessamine is an excellent student. You're taking to all of this rather quickly, considering you had next to no previous training."

"Thank you."

His twinkling golden eyes trap me in their gaze for a moment before he looks away, taking a rather large bite out of a slice of toast. He did not mention asking me to join the Order, so I probably should not say anything.

"Well, I'd like to take you to begin some weapons training today," Evie says, gazing at the two of us with a strange glimmer in her eyes, "do you have your cane, Jessa?"

"No, I left it back in my train car. Shall I fetch it?"

"If you please. We'll leave when you get back."

I pop the last bite of melon into my mouth before rising from the booth and making my way back to the front of the train. Today will be rather exciting, I imagine. I cannot wait to learn how to use my cane! Back in my train car, I fasten the leather strap around my waist, reminded of the feeling of Jacob's arms around me when he first put it on. I slip the cane into its holder, enjoying the feeling of its weight along my left thigh.

I am about to arrive at the table when I hear the voices of the siblings, and my name. Jacob is speaking.

"…to join the Order." he says.

"You… what? Did you ask Henry first?"

"No, I haven't yet."

"Jacob, you know better. All candidates must first be approved by the Mentor before being invited to join."

"I know that, but I also have a strong hunch that Henry would be supportive."

"As do I, but you must respect protocol. If he says no, we wind up with a civilian that knows about the assassins and becomes a liability."

"She knows about us regardless, your point is moot. Do you support this, or not?"

"I do. But I believe that her formal training and initiation should wait until after we eliminate the Templar threat. We have to give an Initiate our undivided attention, no distractions."

"Agreed. I'll ask Henry when I can."

I make my presence known, entering the dining area as if I had not been standing there for a minute already. Evie stands.

"Ready to go?" she asks.

"Yes." I pat the cane on my hip for emphasis, hidden by my long coat.

"Goodbye, Jacob. I'll return her to you at sunset."

"I'll be waiting." he says, gazing at me.

I feel a slight blush start to warm my cheeks as Evie takes her leave. All I can manage is a feeble wave before hurrying to follow his sister. As always, Jacob affects me in the strangest of ways. I have a feeling he knows exactly what he is doing.

"I understand you've leapt from Betsy before?"

"Yes, once yesterday."

"I'll let you go first, then. Just remember everything Jacob taught you."

I spare a glance at the train tracks flying by beneath my feet, mentally counting to three before leaping off of the platform. The wind blows through my hair and makes my cane bump against my leg, but I still manage to tuck my limbs in and roll to a stop after hitting the ground. Evie lands ahead of me, walking towards me as I push myself to my feet.

"How did that feel?"

"Still slightly jarring, but no worse than before."

"That's good to hear. You can only improve."

We hop over the stone wall dividing the tracks from the city streets, and set off down the sidewalk.

"Where are we going?"

"An old rail yard used by Assassins for training. Hopefully, we will find a few other Initiates there for you to practice with at this time in the morning."

This area of town is not as developed as the others, the roads and sidewalks are crafted from packed dirt, not cobblestones. There are not nearly as many buildings as there are in inner London; patches of grass are being used by local children to play games, and tall trees tower over the squat buildings. Evie veers onto a smaller alley in between a tavern and a tailor. We walk along the backside of the buildings, the alleyway opening into a secluded block of land beneath a railway overpass. What I see here stuns my feet to immobility.

The space is surrounded by old rail cars and tracks, bolts and wheels. Most of the metal is partially rusted, grass and weeds steadily overtaking the nooks and crannies. In one area of the yard, straw men attached to wooden stakes are being attacked by three men, one using a curved blade similar to the one I saw Jacob use in combat, another using the hidden blades of his assassin gauntlets, and one using a sword. Across the yard is somewhat of a smithy, assassins sharpening their weapons or cleaning their firearms, a man in a smock pounding red hot metal into a blade. Along the sides of the yard all manners of training are taking place. Hand to hand combat or a battle with weapons, at least ten fights are in progress around the yard. In the middle of it all is an arena created with bales of hay, and in it are two women fighting head to head with nothing but their bare hands. They are wearing no more than a cotton shirt and pants, with simple boots. A crowd has gathered to watch the pair. There must be at least fifty assassins here, in various stages of undress. Some men are completely shirtless, and no one seems to care!

A younger boy stitching damaged straw men is the first to notice my companion, "Miss Evie! It's Miss Evie!"

It is as if a switch has been flipped. The machinery in the makeshift smithy grinds to a halt, combat reaches a sudden standstill. Fifty pairs of eyes turn to us. I feel rather uncomfortable at the scrutiny, but Evie squeezes my shoulder in reassurance. She leaves me to stand on a crate a few meters away. Most of the eyes follow her, but several stay trained on me. The strange girl dressed like an assassin.

"My brothers and sisters, I trust you have been well since we last spoke. I come to you today with a special guest, the daughter of our beloved Prime Minister, Miss Jessamine Disraeli."

All eyes are back on me once more, but the suspicious gazes have morphed into looks of guarded awe. I suppose that is a good sign.

"I trust you are aware of the revival of Templar presence in our city. A particular faction, a group known as the Black Aces, is after Miss Disraeli. They believe that kidnapping the daughter of the Prime Minister will give them some pull in negotiations for power. Which, unfortunately, is true. My brother and I have chosen to protect Miss Disraeli personally."

This causes rumbles through the group. I hear bits and pieces of conversation; questions over Evie's supposed retirement, how much of a threat the Aces truly are, and when did Jacob ever care enough about anyone to become a personal bodyguard. Evie quiets the crowd with a raised hand.

"The Templars appear to be extremely interested in Miss Disraeli, and despite our best attempts at keeping her protected, there always seem to be a few too many of them. We've had several close calls. It is for this reason that we have decided to give Miss Disraeli some basic training."

A snort from the back of the group draws my attention, Evie stops her speech and narrows her eyes at the offender. I can see a head of fiery red hair cut extremely close to the scalp. Strikingly bright green eyes, narrowed to an impressive glare. Her pretty mouth is twisted into a scowl, arms crossed over her chest. I recognize her as one of the two women sparring in the arena when we arrived. Even from many meters away, I can sense her hostile demeanor.

"You honestly s'pect to be able to teach the little doll to defend 'erself?"

Her accent is rather lower class, which, as silly as it sounds, makes me feel a little superior. Evie's hackles raise, she folds her arms over her chest and raises her brows. The assassins avert their eyes to avoid Evie's icy glare, but the redhead defiantly holds her ground.

"What is the purpose of the Order?" Evie asks her audience.

Fifty voices respond in unison, "To safeguard the freedom of humanity."

"Now, perhaps I have lost my touch due to my _retirement_ ," Evie says, addressing the elephant in the room, "but Miss Disraeli looks like a human being to me. And, logically, that would place her under our protection. Is that correct?"

The silence from the assassins is all the answer she needs before she smoothly leaps off of the crate. The crowd parts like the Red Sea, Evie makes her way to the redhead with her arms still intransigently crossed over her chest.

"As a Master Assassin of the Brotherhood, I am assigning you your first mission."

Evie extends a hand, pointing a single gloved finger towards me, "Train her."

 ** _hi! so sorry for my absence, another year of university has begun and my schedule is rather busy! i really hope you enjoyed, please let me know your thoughts in a review! i'd love to hear what you think. if you liked what you read, please don't hesitate to favorite and follow! as always, thank you for your support! i love each and every one of you. see you next chapter! xoxo_**


	16. Chapter 16

I have learned that the name of my unwilling teacher is Margaret. Margaret does not like me. She made that fact very clear from the beginning, as soon as the crowd dispersed and the assassins went back to their training. The very first words she spoke to me were, "I don't like you." And now, I am on the ground of the rail yard, breathing hard, having been thrown down thirty four times in the past fifteen minutes. I have been keeping count.

Evie retired to one of the bales of hay to watch Margaret's thorough thrashing - I mean, training. We have been engaged in hand-to-hand combat, Margaret clearly enjoying the advantage she has over me. Evie repeatedly reminds her to instruct rather than demonstrate, but Margaret seems to be deaf.

"Come on, poor thing. Can't fight back?"

I gather my strength and pick myself up off of the dirt once more, brushing off my coat.

"Need I remind you, Lady Margaret, that I am here to be taught, not to be beaten."

"But isn't this way just so much more fun?"

No sooner have I found my footing she swipes my feet out from under me. Margaret pins me and suddenly I see Jacob above me, pinning me to the ground at the railroad tracks. My instincts kick in and I execute the move he taught me. I trap her leg and bring my leg forward, freeing myself from beneath her. Feeling the tables turn in my favor, I launch myself at her. With a surprised grunt, Margaret finds herself pinned beneath me. A small glimmer of respect is visible in her eyes as she regards me.

"How'd you learn that?" she asks.

"Jacob Frye." I respond.

"Figures. All right, I s'pose I can teach you a thing or two. But the most important part of trainin' is practice. The more we spar, the better you'll get. Understand?"

"I do."

"Good. I still don't like you."

"Fair enough."

I climb off of her, holding out a hand to help her up. She rolls her eyes and climbs to her feet without my help.

"Now, we'll start with the offensive. I'll teach you how to throw a good fist. Thumb on the outside of your fingers so ya don't break it. Follow through with the motion, don't allow the punch to stop at your target. There's more power that way. Arms at your chest, feet spread for stability, knees bent for balance. Got it?"

"I believe so."

She holds out her palms, "Go to town, then."

I clench my fingers, finding a strong stance and holding my fists at my chest. I let my hand fly, connecting as hard as I can with her palm.

"Keep going. Harder!"

I punch her hands in rapid succession, keeping my arm straight and pulling my fist back in as quickly as I can to strike again.

"Good," she lowers her hands, "you maintained control over yourself, which is important. But you also have to remember to relax, let your instincts guide you. Find the balance."

I shake the pain out of my hands, "I understand."

"You'll come to learn what moves work best for the given situation. We've got head, hands, elbows, shoulders, hips, knees, and feet. Remember all of these areas when you engage in combat. If one is locked down, you have other options. Want to show me what you think they can do?"

I like this Margaret better. I do not know what changed between us, but she seems to be a much more willing teacher.

"A head could be used to… hit… someone?"

Margaret chuckles, "Close enough. It can be used to break someone's nose, or at the very least, inflict a little damage and allow you some leverage."

She grabs me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides, "If you were to throw your head back as hard as you could, you'd likely break my nose. Now think about the areas of your body you can use. Your shoulders, elbows, and hands are trapped. What's left that could be effective in this position?"

"My head, and my feet."

"Good. What could you do with your feet?"

I remember being trapped in this position by Thomas, back at the market on the river. I stomped on his foot then.

"I could step on your foot."

"You could. You would have to use the heel of your boot for that to be effective. Anything else?"

"I could kick your shin, or your kneecap?"

"Very good. That would certainly work. You can also wriggle like your life depends on it."

We both laugh, and I feel another barrier break down between us.

"Also remember to use your teeth. If you ever have a hand over your mouth, your enemy frequently doesn't expect to be bitten."

"Oh, I know. I have done that before."

"You have?"

Margaret releases me and I turn to her. She surveys me, swiping some dirt from my cheek.

"You're tough, Miss Disraeli. I think I was wrong about you."

"You do?"

"I do. You've proven to be a formidable opponent, despite your lack of training. I take back what I said. I like you."

I smile at her, "I like you, too."

"I think we're done here for now. Tell me what you learned."

"Head, shoulders, elbows, hands, hips, knees, feet. And teeth. Maintain control, but stay relaxed. Follow your instincts."

"Good. Very good. You're a fast learner. Now all you have to do is practice with different partners. Learn different approaches to different situations. We'll do defense later. I think Miss Evie is ready for you."

Evie rises from her position, looking a little pale.

"Are you all right, Evie?"

"Just fine, Jessa. Come. Let's break in that cane."

She leads me to the straw dummies across the rail yard. I am overly conscious of the eyes on me, watching my every move. I doubt that there has ever been someone training in this yard that was not an assassin. I understand their suspicion, and I want to tell them that I will be an Initiate soon. But from what I heard this morning, it would seem that I need Henry's approval first. Evie positions us in front of a straw man. I pull my cane from its leather strap, feeling the weight of it in my hands. Evie has withdrawn a weapon of her own, a beautiful silver cane with a handle sculpted into the head of a vulture, with eyes of rubies.

"Jacob uses a kukri, I prefer a cane sword."

"A… kukri?"

"You've seen one before. The rather large, strangely curved blade."

"That is what they are called?"

She chuckles, "Indeed. Now, you have to think of the cane as an extension of your arm. Swing fluidly, follow through. Just like what Margaret taught you. Engage the bottom blade."

I push the large sapphire gem and the blade emerges from the base of the cane. It is as long as my forearm, its end sharpened to a deadly point.

"The bottom blade is to be used mostly as a stabbing instrument, you can rush your enemies with the blade engaged to inflict maximum damage. Would you like to give it a try?"

I size up the straw man in front of me before taking several steps backwards, preparing myself.

"Think of it as a jousting lance. Tuck it under your arm and run forward."

I tuck the cane under my arm and rush the dummy, easily piercing the burlap. Straw crunches under the blade. I withdraw it.

"Good. You can also wield the cane with both hands if you find yourself in close quarters, or you can dispatch an enemy that is on the ground. Stow it, please."

I push the sapphire and the blade retracts. I release the next blade, pulling up on the dove and twisting. The scythe-like blade on the side of the cane snaps to life, arcing dangerously.

"You can use this blade similar to the way you would use an axe. Its point is the sharpest part, but you can drag the blade this way or that. This blade is best for deep cuts, and it is easiest to wield via the momentum you can create with the weight of the cane."

Experimentally, I swing the blade into the straw man. It pierces the burlap like hot iron through butter. I drag downwards, creating a rather deep gash.

"Exactly," Evie says, leaning heavily on the straw man next to us, "that's exactly right. Both blades can be activated in addition to the removable dagger, this gives you three blades to use at once. The dagger is a double edged blade, so it can be used any way you see fit."

"Are you sure you are all right, Evie? May I get you some water?"

"I'm fine, it will pass soon."

"You have had this illness before?"

"It only comes around in the late morning, not to worry. I've found the best thing to do is push through."

"There is no cure?"

"Unfortunately, no. It should only last for about nine months, luckily."

"Evie! You do not mean to tell me that you are…?"

Evie shushes me, making sure no one else was around to hear. That is all the answer I need.

"You are! You are!"

She laughs, playfully hitting my arm, "Hush! Not everyone needs to know."

I stare at her stomach, "You are not showing yet. How long have you known?"

"Three weeks. My doctor believes I have been pregnant for approximately two months, now."

"That is why you retired, is it not? Because of the baby?"

"Yes, that's why. Henry is too worried about me to let me out into the world. I understand, I wouldn't want anything happening to the baby."

"Oh, I feel simply awful. I dragged you out of retirement and risked your baby's life!"

"Nonsense, I chose to participate in one last mission. Unfortunately your case turned out to be rather extensive."

"I am so sorry."

"Don't be. I'm happy I came back. I don't know how I will survive sitting at home doing nothing for seven more months."

"But you get to bring a baby into the world! A tiny assassin!"

Evie giggles, "I suppose I do, don't I?"

She sighs wistfully, thinking for a moment, before turning her attention back to me.

"You cannot tell anyone. I haven't told Jacob yet."

"Why not?"

"He… Was rather upset about my decision to leave the train and move in with Henry. We've never been apart for very long, together since birth. He felt betrayed that I left him, but he was able to accept the change since I was still active in the Brotherhood. My retirement due to the baby will truly mean that I am done, and it will hurt him. At least for now, anyways. I know he will ultimately be very happy for us, but I also know that he will be heartbroken."

"But you must tell him. You cannot hide a pregnancy for very long."

"I know that. I will tell him, eventually. In my own time and way.

"If you insist," I say, sensing her eagerness to change the topic, "How am I to practice using the cane-sword without injuring someone?"

She gratefully takes hold of my offer to shift subjects, "The straw men, mostly, but we also have several dulled blades you can utilize for practice with another person. I would like you to start training with Geoffrey, our resident swordsman. He will help you understand your dagger."

A deep, male voice resonates rather close to my ear, "You called?"

Startled, I turn to find a mountain of a man looming over me. He is even larger than Jacob! And… He is African. His skin is as dark as solid chocolate, his bare torso more than enough to make me blush. He takes my hand in his, bending low to press a kiss to my gloved knuckles.

"Geoffrey Sinclair the Third. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Disraeli."

"The pleasure is mine, Sir."

"I understand I am to teach you how to wield a blade?"

"Yes, Sir. This one."

I stow the curved blade. Pushing down on the dove and rotating my wrist to the right, the dagger is freed from the cane with a low click. Geoffrey takes it, giving it a few experimental twirls in his large hands.

"This is a beautiful knife. Expertly crafted, light but strong. It suits you."

"Thank you."

He hands it back to me, "We will start with some basic terminology and technique. But first, we need a new dummy."

I take in the one I thoroughly slashed with my other blades, and Evie offers up the dummy she was leaning on.

"I'll be back soon, Jessamine."

"Please take care of yourself, Evie."

"Of course."

She leaves us, walking towards the boy stitching the damaged straw men back together. He appears delighted to see her, patting the spot next to him for her to sit.

"Who is that boy?" I ask Geoffrey as we watch the exchange.

"Jack the Lad. We rescued him from Lambeth Asylum following Starrick's death. Mr. Frye has begun training the boy, he shows great promise."

"He appears to like Evie very much."

"Miss Frye is a very maternal figure."

"Indeed."

I want to tell him that she will be a mother soon, but she told me not to speak of it. We watch the pair for a moment longer before Geoffrey breaks the spell, holding the dagger out in front of us. The little dove carving catches the light, making it appear to glow.

"This is the hilt of your dagger, which can be divided into two parts: the grip and the pommel. The grip is what you hold when using the dagger, the pommel is the end. Simple enough?"

I nod.

"You have a double edged sword, meaning both sides are sharp enough to cut. The fuller is this line down the middle, providing you with extra strength since the blade is thin."

Geoffrey hands the blade to me, "Now, when holding the dagger, you'll likely be using a forward grip. This means that the blade opposes the little finger. Generally, the best grip can be found when you curve your thumb around the grip, making a fist. Especially in the case of a double edged sword, this will keep your thumb safely out of the way."

I curve my fingers around the dagger, keeping my thumb curved away from the edges.

"Good. A reverse grip means that the thumb opposes the blade, allowing for more force to be applied but a limited range. Your blade will point down. This is most useful for a stabbing motion, while a forward grip is more applicable to slashing or slicing. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"Then we will begin our training. Come with me."

Geoffrey leads me through the rail yard, passing by assassins engaging in all manners of combat. I catch more than a few people staring at me as we make our way to the smithy on the other end of the yard. I feel uncomfortable, but I cannot allow them to see my discomfort. I am training, just like they are. Even though we are at vastly different points in our training, we are still equals. Geoffrey reaches the smithy, skirting the sparks flying from a grinding wheel a woman is using to sharpen a small knife. He peers into a crate marked "Dull", withdrawing two daggers of roughly the same dimensions as my own. After we have found our own area of the rail yard and Geoffrey has tossed me a dull blade, he takes a fighting stance.

"Center your core, spread your legs and plant your feet. You are looking for openings in your opponent's defense; whether you find the openings or make them is up to you. Your killing blows will be delivered to the internal organs, the head, and the neck. That's not to say a well placed stab delivered anywhere else on the body won't be to your advantage."

"I am ready."

I assume a similar stance, and Geoffrey teaches me about the myriad of ways to go after an opponent. Slashes and thrusts, jabs and slices. He shows me little tricks to distract or manipulate an opponent, and ways to use what Margaret taught me in battle. I can feel the power behind each of Geoffrey's attacks. This man is massive, and he is definitely being gentle with me. I make a silent vow to myself to one day be able to best him when he is truly fighting.

"Mother?" a small voice behind me asks.

In my distraction, Geoffrey succeeds in sharply jabbing my sternum. I hiss in pain as I turn to face the source of the voice. It is Jack the Lad, as Geoffrey affectionately called him. I bend down to meet his eyes.

"It is you!" he shouts, tackling me into a hug.

My sense of balance is thrown and we tumble backwards into the dirt. Jack peers into my face from above me. This boy is no more than twelve years old, with twinkling hazel eyes and light brown hair. He thinks I am his mother? My hair is a darker brown than his, but his eyes… I feel as if I am staring into my own. I am stunned speechless. What do I say? Do I crush his little heart by telling him who I am?

"Oh, Mother, how I've missed you." he buries his face into my neck, his voice breaking with emotion. I cannot help but stroke his hair as Evie's face appears over me. She looks worried. His body is still rather skinny, but he is tall. His head reaches my chest in height.

"Jack? Jack, please climb off of her."

"But she's my mother, Miss Evie! She don't mind."

I gaze up at Evie in a silent plea for assistance, but she looks as lost as I feel.

"Jack, dear, let's sit up, shall we?" I ask gently.

He finally releases me, staying in my lap as I sit up. His hands lock around my neck as he gazes adoringly up at me. As much as it pains me to do so, I cannot let him believe I am his mother.

"Jack, my name is Jessamine, remember? I am the Prime Minister's daughter. Can you tell me your mother's name?"

His brow furrows, his eyes become distant, "Mary. But… but she died."

"What happened to her, Jack?"

"She was hurt. By some big men. At night, it was dark. She was screaming."

Chills explode over me as the realization dawns. He witnessed his mother's murder. Jack's eyes refocus on my face, heartbreak etched in his features.

"You look like her."

 ** _hello! happy november! i hope you enjoyed watching jessamine's training, our little china doll is getting stronger by the day. let me know what you thought of the chapter, and please favorite/follow if you so desire! there are many surprises in store, i cannot wait for you to experience them. much love as always, thank you for your constant support. see you next chapter! :)_**


	17. Chapter 17

Hours of agility training, hand-to-hand combat, and blade-wielding later, my entire body aches. The shoulder that I dislocated several days ago hurts the most from Margaret's aggressive training, but I do not want to show Evie any weakness. This was my first full day of training, and despite the pain, I loved every moment. I can feel myself getting stronger. If Evie thought I could not handle it, she would not give me as many training opportunities.

Evie and I catch the train from Waterloo Station, climbing aboard to Jacob's warm welcome as he enjoys afternoon tea in the dining cabin with a few more Rooks. I have come to understand that some visit the train during the day for meals if they cannot afford to feed themselves, but the only man that lives on the train is Alan for round-the-clock food service. I slide into the booth next to a young man with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes, who immediately passes me something that looks rather familiar.

"Is this… an almond cake?"

I look up to find Jacob already watching at me, "Jacob, is this an almond cake? From home?"

"I was down at Hughenden today to check in with your parents. They are well, by the way, and send their love. I asked the cook for the recipe to bring a piece of your home here to the train. Alan whipped them up, hopefully they aren't complete shite."

"They aren't." says the blonde man next to me, happily taking a bite.

I stare down at the small cake in my hands. Not as pretty as those from back home, but the fact that Jacob had the notion to make my stay on the train more comfortable… I look back up at him, that familiar feeling unfurling in my chest as he smirks at me.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"I - thank you. Thank you so much!"

I bite into the cake, the familiar tastes of home filling my mouth and lifting my spirits. I had no idea that the siblings had been checking on my parents so frequently. I have been thinking about them often, it is comforting to know that they are safe. I finish the cake in three bites and reach for another one, and another one after that. The booth is alive with laughter and conversation, the Rooks exchanging stories and jokes. I find myself imagining what it would be like to sit at this table every day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the rest of my life. The easy camaraderie here is impossible to ignore. Jacob and Evie have created a new family for those that did not have one.

The train begins to brake, signaling our arrival in Whitechapel. Evie stands from the table, bidding a goodnight to everyone. She pulls me in for a hug, congratulating me on a day of hard work. After her exit, the Rooks steadily trickle out one by one as the sun begins to set. As Jacob bids goodbye to the last straggler, I find myself feeling the effects of the day. I roll my shoulder a few times, which does not escape his watchful eye.

"Long day?" he asks.

"Oh yes. But a good day. I am rather sore, though."

"I've been there before, darling. Let me show you the remedy."

He stands from the booth, leading me into his car. Agnes has departed for the day, presumably back when we stopped in Whitechapel. I plop onto his couch, tilting my head from side to side to alleviate the stiffness steadily taking over. Jacob opens and shuts several drawers before withdrawing a small jar with a brass lid. Inside appears to be a dark orange balm.

"This is a balm for sore and stiff muscles, developed in southeast Asia. Greenie brought some back from his travels and let me tell you, it works like a charm. Now, you'll have to remove some clothes."

"How many items of clothing, exactly?"

"I'll need some skin, Jessa. Unless, of course, you would rather go to bed in excruciating pain, with muscles that -"

"All right, all right. I will do it."

After all, he has seen my breasts before. He thinks I do not remember, but I do. I shrug out of my trench coat and unlace my vest, sliding my shirt over my head. I am left in the cotton corset gifted to me by Evie, leaving my stomach, arms, shoulders, and collarbones exposed. Jacob, to his credit, does not look too obviously. I loosen the corset and lay face down on his couch, noticing that his pillow smells like him. I am content to bury my face in the pillow until a different scent hits my nose. The pungent scent of a blend of spices.

"What is that smell? Is it the balm?"

"A mix of oils, mint, clove bud, cajuput. It also contains camphor and menthol. Rather strange smell, hm?"

"It is not bad. Just… different."

Jacob positions himself at my side. I see him dip his fingers into the balm before they make contact with my skin. His hands are large and softer than I expected. I can feel the callouses on his fingertips as they press into my aching shoulders and back - not too rough, but enough to make me wonder what work they have done. They slip beneath my corset, inciting that familiar warm feeling in my stomach. The exotic scent of the balm fills the air as he silently massages my sore muscles. The sun has set, leaving us bathed in lantern light. When he focuses attention on my recently dislocated shoulder, I cannot hold in the small breath that escapes me. His hands still on my body.

"Are you all right?"

"I believe my shoulder is still sensitive from the dislocation, I landed on it a few times too many today."

His fingers softly caress my shoulder, "You need to be careful, Jessamine. Dislocations can permanently ruin a joint if you don't give them enough time to heal."

"I understand. I will be careful."

"Good girl."

He resumes the massage, gently working out the pain of the shoulder. I do hope I have not permanently ruined it as he suggested. That would not be a strong start to my career as an Assassin. Slowly, my eyes slide closed. I feel rather relaxed, despite my state of undress.

"I wanted to speak with you about some things I learned today," he starts, his voice steady with concentration, "some things I learned about your friend, Thomas."

My eyes snap open at his name on Jacob's lips.

"Oh?" I ask, attempting to keep my voice even.

"Oh, indeed. I was able to get some information out of an unlucky Ace caught in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Is this man still alive?"

"Unfortunately not."

Jacob calmly admits to murder, his fingers never pausing in their work. I still have not developed my position on the frequent killings associated with becoming a member of the Order.

"This man was very generous with his information. The Aces have big plans for the city, namely restoring the Templar presence in London's social infrastructure and economy. They are systematically buying out factories and corporations throughout the city, with money from what I have come to suspect originates from illegal dealings. They are trying to amass power and gain control over the other Templar factions; all of the separate groups are in a race for dominance. Luckily the new Templars have yet to establish their roots as deeply as Starrick did, so it won't be as much of a challenge to eradicate them as it was before. But this is the interesting part. According to our friend that has since crossed over to the great beyond, a new Starrick is in town. Just as ruthless and cunning, if not more so. And his name is Thomas Morgan."

I can feel my muscles tense beneath his fingertips, and I know he feels it too. Thomas is at the head of the Aces? My Thomas? It sounds too ridiculous to believe, but if I have learned anything these past few days, it is that I did not know Thomas at all. Pain squeezes my heart at that revelation, but I push it away.

"You mentioned before that you and Thomas were mates, and I just wanted to keep you informed. It's too soon to decide what to do about the Aces as a whole yet, our focus is still on eliminating the closest threat to you and working upwards."

"Working upwards. Working upwards to eliminate the boss?"

"At some point, yes. We will have to dispatch the leader of the group."

Kill Thomas. My heart squeezes painfully again and I fight to keep it at bay. I still have not figured out a tactful way of telling Jacob about my true relationship with Thomas, especially after my slip this morning about our _weekly rendezvous_. He would put the pieces together all too quickly, and then what would he think of me? The naive girl that not only could not save herself for marriage, but who was too blind to see the threat that was directly under her nose? I am sure that would do nothing to encourage him that I am a good candidate for the Order.

"I see."

We lapse into silence again, Jacob having worked the balm into my shoulders and moved on to my lower back. The tension that has returned to my muscles is more than noticeable, but he does not say a word.

"I met a little boy today," I start, in an attempt to change the subject, "I was told his name is Jack the Lad."

Jacob makes a noise of recognition, "Ah, Jack. Bright young boy, he is. Troubled past, but he keeps mum about it. We pulled him out of Lambeth Asylum after we killed Starrick. No noticeable signs of mental deficiency, we have no idea why he was there and not in an orphanage."

"You do not know about his past?"

"Not a bit."

"I believe I learned a little of it today. He thought I was his mother."

"He… what?"

"It was strange, Jacob. He had seen me before, when Evie introduced me to the group. He knew who I was, that I was not his mother. Then midway through the day, he tackles me to the ground with pure happiness, telling Evie I am his mother. It was like a psychotic episode, like his brain had temporarily malfunctioned."

"Perhaps he's a little soft in the head after all."

"I broke through to him and he seemed to realize I was not his mother. He told me that her name was Mary, and that she was dead. Jacob, I - I think he watched her die. He described large men hurting her, and hearing her screams. It was awful to watch him relive that night in his memory. It broke my heart."

Jacob abandons his attempt to work the tension out of my muscles, seeing as I cannot seem to relax. He sits down heavily at the end of the couch. I sit up beside him, folding my legs beneath me and thanking my lucky stars that pants allow me to do so.

"I'm sorry you had to see that. Jack is a rather guarded boy, it's peculiar that he opened up to a stranger. He doesn't talk about his past."

"He did. Evie was witness. I am a little concerned, Jacob. There must be a reason he was incarcerated at Lambeth instead of going to an orphanage. Perhaps he is a little unstable?"

"I'll come with you to the rail yard tomorrow and see if we can't get him to open up a little more. He's staying with another assassin at the moment, obviously we cannot initiate him into the Order until he's older."

"And about yesterday… What am I to do about joining the Order?"

"That will all be handled in due course. I have to ask Henry for his permission to train you, all initiation candidates must be approved by the Mentor."

"The Mentor?"

"Every branch of the Brotherhood has a Mentor, a leader to keep our affairs in order. Greenie took that title, Evie and I didn't want it."

"Why not?"

"Too boring. Fieldwork is much more appealing to me than record keeping. And Evie figured that we should remain equals on all fronts."

"That was wise of her."

"Indeed."

We sit in silence for a few moments, feeling the train sway around us.

"Thank you for the balm. I feel much better."

"Greenie will be pleased to hear that one of his crackpot souvenirs actually works."

I giggle at Jacob's frank response, "Do you get sore? I would imagine in your line of work that you are constantly in pain."

"Your body gets tougher the harder you push it. I've been training from a young age. The Order trains you in some rather unorthodox methods of keeping yourself protected."

"How do you mean?"

"Some ancient techniques and meditation or some shite, training your mind to protect your body. An injury in combat won't immobilize me. My brain can override the pain somehow, it's like my body has developed a sort of immunity."

"But how is that possible? To be insusceptible to a gunshot wound?"

"I've learned not to question it. Whatever it is, it bloody works. I'll be teaching you all of that in due course. Heightened senses, agility, dexterity. It all becomes advanced."

"How curious. And it happens through meditation?"

"Lots and lots of meditation. It took me a while to get there. Evie got it right away."

"Who was your teacher?"

"Our father, mostly. He began training us as soon as we could walk."

"You and Evie. You are the same age?"

"We're twins, actually."

Jacob chuckles at my bewildered expression.

"Twins? But… but you two look nothing alike!"

"We're fraternal. I was born four minutes after Evie."

"I would never have guessed."

"Not many people do." he responds, fixing me with a teasing look.

"What was it like for you, growing up an Assassin? Never knowing any other way of life?"

"I could ask you the same question. I thought my life was normal until I discovered the rest of the world. You're the same way."

"Yes, that is true. I had not imagined a life other than the one I was living."

"But now you can. You're welcome."

I flop dramatically onto his shoulder, pressing a hand to my forehead, "Oh, thank you ever so much Sir Frye. You saved me from a dull, listless existence. How can I ever repay you?"

"You can repay me by becoming an Assassin," he says, looping an arm over my shoulders and cementing my place against his chest, "and you'll do a bloody brilliant job."

"Do you really believe so?" I ask, thoughts turning hazy at our proximity.

"I do. You've got drive and passion, and your heart is the largest I've ever seen. You're naturally compassionate and caring, which is the foundation on which the Order was built. We care for those that cannot care for themselves."

"Safeguarding the freedom of humanity." I murmur into his broad chest.

"Correct. And you'll look damn good doing it, too."

"Jacob!" I smack his hard abdominals, and his chuckle rumbles at my ear.

"I only speak truth." he says, his hand briefly running up and down my arm, inciting chills. The movement of his hand over my arm jostles my shoulder once more, and I heave a small moan at the return of the ache.

"This blasted shoulder! Why does it hurt so much?"

His fingers immediately arrive at the wounded area, pressing into the muscle. The relief is instantaneous. I cannot help but sigh with bliss.

"Better?"

"Much."

Jacob shifts, and I slide downwards until my face is resting on his thigh. A flush finds its way to my cheeks at how close I am to his unmentionables. The position we are in is highly improper, and yet, I do not want to move away. We are perfectly innocent, he is simply helping to alleviate the day's pain. Nothing to worry about. Nothing. In fact, there is so much nothing to worry about that I can make myself more comfortable! I boldly adjust myself in his lap, curling up along the couch and resting my cheek on his thigh, bringing a hand up to his knee. I feel him shift beneath me, perhaps also realizing the position we are in. If he does realize something, he does not reveal himself. His fingers continue their palpation along my shoulder with no irregularity. The old me never would have done something like this with a man I have only known for a short time. But now? Now is different. An urge strikes me.

"I will be right back."

I leap up so quickly he startles, but I give no time for an explanation as I dash through his train car and into mine. I retighten my corset and pull a clean shirt over my head, grabbing my new colored pencils from the desk. I reach into the bottom right drawer, and just as Evie said, canvas paper is inside. Shutting the drawer and taking my new supplies with me, I bridge the gap back into Jacob's car. He is sitting right where I left him, but his eyes brighten with curiosity when he sees the pencils in my hand.

"May I draw you?" I ask shyly.

His face breaks into a grin, "Why, Miss Disraeli, I'm flattered. Of course you may, just make sure to get my good side."

"Which is?"

"All of them."

I roll my eyes as he gazes up at me with that cocky smirk.

"I want to draw your scars."

His eyebrows raise, "Jessamine, if you want me to take my clothes off, all you have to do is ask nicely."

I raise my brows and fold my arms; if I open my mouth I know my voice will betray me. He grins at me before standing to comply with my request. He shrugs out of his long coat and throws it over the side of the couch. He removes his vest and grasps the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. I only allow myself to be distracted for a brief moment, taking in his glorious strength. I force myself to maintain a neutral expression, but the way he is looking at me is almost enough to make me break.

"Now tell me, Mister Frye. Where is your most impressive scar?"

He ponders the question before answering, "Here."

Turning his back to me, he traces a long, thick rope of a scar that stretches from his left shoulder blade to his left hip. I cannot help but gasp at the size of it, reaching out a finger to feel its impressive length.

"What did this to you?"

"A dagger. The blood loss nearly killed me. I almost didn't make it back to the train."

The pale rift is several centimeters in thickness and just longer than my forearm. It captivates me.

"I want to use the lantern light, if you will allow me to move you."

Jacob spreads his hands, "I am at your mercy."

Gathering my will, I step forward and grasp his torso, turning him away from the light. His skin is warm beneath my fingertips. The lanterns' yellow glow makes the scar stand out amongst the others, a badge of his devotion to the Creed. I make the decision then and there to keep the sketch in black and white, using shadow to emphasize his multitude of scars. Using the colors just does not seem right.

"Will you fold your arms over your chest, please?"

He obeys, the muscles of his biceps bulging as he does so. He truly is beautiful. I will sketch the left side of his torso from the spine over.

"Are you comfortable? This may take a while, you will have to remain still."

"More than comfortable, darling. I'll be a statue."

I giggle at his enthusiasm and set to work, sweeping the gray charcoal pencil across the page and sketching his frame. Half of his broad shoulders, half of his back, half of his hips. I see him begin to take shape on the paper, the curve of his bicep and the thickness of his hair, his wide stance. In no time I have shaded his likeness and completed the first phase. Now, the scars. I take a step closer to him, watching the steady rise and fall of his shoulders. True to his word, he has stayed perfectly still. I start with the biggest scar. It takes shape on the paper, marring the smooth skin. I add scar after scar, some thick, some thin, some long, some short.

"How's it going back there?" Jacob asks, disrupting the silence.

"Just perfect. I am almost finished."

"Already? I was prepared for another hour at least. Don't tell me you've rushed, Jessamine. Sloppy artwork is highly unacceptable."

"Not to worry, Jacob. I am sure you will be very pleased with the outcome."

I step closer to him to find the more faded scars, imagining for a brief moment what it would feel like to lean my head against his back and feel his warmth.

"You're awfully close to me," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky growl, "you aren't planning on taking advantage of me, are you?"

I am glad he cannot see me, I am trying rather hard to regain control over my facial expression. Why must he tease me all the time?

"Only if you wish to be taken advantage of." I respond cooly, harnessing the bashful feeling he evokes and turning it into something I can use. I can feel the tension in the room steadily mounting. A part of myself is awakening, the part that has lain dormant since the loss of Thomas.

Jacob rolls his shoulders, the movement causing a delicious ripple of his muscles, "What's gotten into you, Jessa? You're suddenly a rather willing participant."

"Now, now Mister Frye. No moving." I murmur, rather close to his ear. Or, as close as I can get considering that I am no taller than his shoulder.

"And if I do?"

"Severe punishment." I whisper, adrenaline flowing through my veins, crackling like lightning.

"I'll take my chances."

Before I have the chance to blink, Jacob whirls to face me. Startled, my paper and pencils clatter to the floor as I stumble backwards against the wall. His hands come down on either side of my head, caging me in. My breath comes short and flustered while he gazes at me. His eyes seem to glow in the lantern light, his closeness is mind-numbing.

"Come now, darling, don't tell me you've lost your nerve. I was promised severe punishment."

 _ **a little bit of spice to keep things interesting ;P i hope you enjoyed and that you had an amazing day! i give you this chapter as a present for no reason in particular other than to graduate you for another day survived. you did it - congrats! take on tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that. you can do it! if you liked what you read please consider favoriting/following the story and leaving a review - i always love hearing your thoughts on the story's progress! much love, see you next chapter xoxo**_


	18. Chapter 18

I gathered my drawing pencils and paper and swiftly exited the train car. I know I must have confused him horribly, but - curse me - try as I might to banish the feelings I have for Thomas, it is much easier said than done. I woke to the sound of a train whistle, having finally fallen asleep after many hours of tossing and turning. Last night, I felt things for Jacob that I thought I had lost the ability to feel. I am only acting on old feelings from Thomas, it is inconceivable that my broken heart is ready to love again so soon after it was shattered. I cannot feel that way about Jacob. I don't.

The train begins to brake, indicating that we are stopping somewhere. Presumably we have arrived in Whitechapel to pick up Agnes. Another day has begun, and I need to focus on myself and my training, becoming stronger. Jacob foresaw that we would have an encounter with the Aces in the near future, and I want to be as prepared as possible for the next attack. I rise and get dressed, reveling in the feeling of my cane resting snugly against my left thigh. Its proximity makes me feel safe, like I could take on anything and anyone and win. Well… Maybe not the Frye twins just yet.

The train lets out another piercing whistle before it begins to pull out of the station. That means that Agnes is on board and breakfast will be served soon. I wonder what sorts of training I will take part in today? Will Jacob take me out into the city once more, despite the danger?

I unbolt the door of my train car and slide the lock, hauling it open and facing the bright morning sunshine. Jacob is not in his train car, and I cannot see Agnes from my vantage point here. I jump across the gap between the cars, expecting a sunny good morning from Agnes, but she is not at her desk. That is peculiar. I am certain that the train stopped, she must have gotten on. I make my way through the car, sparing a glance at the wall Jacob pressed me against last night.

I make the leap into the dining car, but there is no usual sound of voices from the booth. Is anyone there? I peer into the breakfast nook to find the train's occupants seated with breakfast on the table. No one has taken a single bite. Jacob looks up at me when I arrive, his eyes a dark shade of brown. Agnes is seated next to him, her eyes red and wet. She has been crying. Evie and Henry are here, which is odd. Jacob would have told me if they were attending breakfast, and Henry never leaves his shop unless necessary. The couple is seated next to each other opposite Agnes and Jacob, wearing matching black robes and expressions of pain.

"What has happened? Is everything all right?"

The table remains silent for a moment, as if they are deciding who will speak. A sick feeling begins to pool in my stomach. Something terrible has happened. Evie chooses to deliver the blow, standing from the booth and clasping my hands tightly in hers. I can hardly hold her gaze, the torment within her eyes is palpable.

"Jessamine. There… there was a -"

Her voice breaks suddenly, and Henry places a hand on her waist for support from his seat in the booth. I can feel a weight beginning to press down on my shoulders. Evie collects herself and takes a shaky breath before she continues.

"There was an accident. Your parents -"

I inhale sharply, I feel as if I have been punched in the stomach, "No! No. Do not speak another word. Not another word."

I can feel my throat begin to close up as panic wraps an icy fist around my lungs. My parents… There could only be one thing that would cause such a visceral reaction from the assassins. Tears prick my eyes. The world seems to spin for a moment. Jacob stands from the booth and pulls me into his arms, placing a hand at the back of my head and tucking me into his chest. A hollow feeling spreads through my stomach. Agnes begins to cry again.

"There was a fire, darling," he murmurs into my hair, "Hughenden burned to the ground in the night. Your parents didn't make it. I - I'm so sorry."

A pain unlike anything I have felt before compresses my chest, manifesting itself into a sob that wracks my entire being. My parents. My parents are… I cannot bear to even think the word.

"We found the remains of explosives at the scene before police arrived," Henry says softly, "and we have our obvious suspicions. We cleaned up what we could. To civilians, it looks like an accident."

The revelation sends me over the edge into hysteria. I push away from Jacob so quickly I nearly lose my balance, "You mean to tell me they were murdered? My parents were murdered? Burned alive? They were burned alive. Burned alive. Burned!"

My knees go numb and give way beneath me, Jacob meets me halfway to the floor. My fingers take fistfuls of his coat as waves of grief wash over my head, drowning me. Evie is gazing at me with pity. Henry looks to be in pain. A foreign feeling bubbles up inside of me, ugly and bitter. It is anger. No, it is rage. In its pure, raw form. Thomas murdered my parents. And just like that, any love for him that was left in my heart burns to ashes.

"Why? Why them? They were such good people. What did they do?"

Evie stays silent in Henry's arms at the table. No one has an answer for a moment.

"We believe," Henry pauses, choosing his words carefully, "that the motive was one of convenience. They could not get to you, but they could get to your parents."

"It's likely that they abandoned their initial scheme after it became too difficult to simply kidnap you and get the money. We can assume that Thomas Morgan was angry, and did not want to walk away without anything to show for his efforts. Killing your parents was the next best option to make a statement." Evie explains.

How many more blows can my heart withstand?

"That is all their lives were worth? A statement to be made by a psychotic murderer? And I _loved_ him! I bloody loved him!"

I feel Jacob stiffen beneath me as I pull myself back from another round of hysterics. I cursed. I have never cursed before.

"You… and Thomas Morgan? _He_ was your lover? For God's sake, that's who you've been protecting?"

"Jacob -" Evie starts.

"Thomas bloody Morgan. Un-fucking-believable. The man that murdered your parents and tried to kidnap you? _That's_ who you still have feelings for?"

I can see the range of emotions storming across Jacob's face as he realizes what he has just said aloud in the presence of his sister. I clamber out of his arms and waver to my feet, gripping the edge of the table. Now he knows about Thomas, and he is furious. But I do not love Thomas anymore. Not after what he has done.

Evie looks at Jacob, folding her arms, "If you are quite done tormenting the poor girl, perhaps you would care to offer words of comfort?"

"No, please just leave me alone." I manage to choke out, turning and bolting from the train car. A fresh wave of tears comes as I hear Evie's enraged shout.

"Now look what you've done!"

Not only have I lost my parents, I have angered Jacob by withholding Thomas's identity. I should have known that keeping the secret would bite me. I was a coward. But now, all I feel towards Thomas is hatred. I want him to pay for what he has done to me and to my family. I feel strange. I have energy I need to expend, but I do not know how. I want to break something. I want to punch Thomas in the face. I… I want to kill him.

I collapse onto my bed, my strength draining as tears begin to pour. How can a human being be so evil? How can one man be so cruel? What did I do to deserve this punishment? My parents… My parents are dead. Dead. My mother, with her twinkling eyes and golden heart. The way her perfume smelled and the way she kissed my cheek goodnight… Vanished in a puff of smoke. She was a fierce protector of her family, she was smart and kind. She was designing our garden. The garden that is now likely burned to ashes. And my father. Proud and strong, with a soft side only our family knew about. His pocket watch I used to want to carry all the time when I was young, to snap it open and shut over and over again until he had to take it away. He will never give me away at my wedding or meet his grandchildren. And sweet Desmond. And Sarah. All of them are gone, turned to ash and dust. And I am left behind. I am left behind almost wishing I had been taken, too. How am I to go on without them? How can I survive this?

And Thomas. My love for Thomas burned to death with my parents. Every pang of grief I feel, every sob shaking my chest fuels a burning rage deep inside of me. I cannot even think his name without bitter fury flowing through me. He is going to pay, and I am going to make him. His torture has gone far enough, and I am sick of sitting back and allowing any of this to happen. I will not allow myself to be a victim any longer.

A knock sounds on the door I left open. Jacob is standing there, his frame overtaking the doorway. Just the sight of him is enough to bring a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. He must be furious with me. I would be furious with me. He steps forward, his brows furrowed and mouth turned down. But as he comes closer, I find that his eyes are not sparking with anger. They are glittering with pain. His eyes follow the trails of the tears spilling down my cheeks.

"Damn it all. I hate it when you cry. How am I to stay mad at you?"

He reaches out and brushes the back of his knuckles over my cheek, wiping the tears away. I catch his hand before he can withdraw it, pressing his palm against my cheek. I take a few deep breaths, steadying my heaving chest and keeping the tears at bay.

"I am sorry for withholding the truth from you. I was afraid that you would think less of me if you knew that it was Thomas I had been in love with. That you would believe I was ignorant for not realizing the threat that was right under my nose, and that you would no longer wish to train me."

Jacob drops to his knees so quickly my eyes cannot follow fast enough, "Jessa, no. I would never think less of you. I couldn't."

His admission only makes my eyes fill with more tears, to which he lets out an exasperated chuckle.

"Are you trying to torture me?"

"I cannot help it. It is not even midday and my life is in shambles."

Jacob moves to sit next to me on the bed just as my tears spill over once more. He wraps me in his arms and holds me tightly. My mind is a flurry of emotions. I feel as if I am barely holding on to my sanity.

"I know what you're going through, Jessamine. I don't have my parents either. Granted, mine weren't murdered."

"Thank you. That made me feel much better."

"Not what I meant. What I mean is… Shite, sorry. I've never been very good at this."

"Just having you here is enough."

He appears satisfied with my answer, and I take comfort in his embrace. At least I have Jacob and our compatriots. Without them, I would be completely alone in this world. I calm my beating heart, forcing my lungs to take deep gulps of air.

"Why don't I go get you some water?" Jacob suggests, moving to stand.

I react seemingly on impulse, arms tightening around his torso, "Please, do not leave. I do not want to be alone."

He sighs his assent, laying back on the bed and taking me down with him. I am reminded of that night when I was sick and delirious, when I had concussion. He held me just like this. I trick myself into thinking I can hear the steady beating of his heart through the layers of his clothing.

"I remember laying here like this, with you. When I had concussion."

"You remember that night?" he asks uneasily from above me.

"I do." I respond quietly.

I know that we are both thinking of the same particular moment from that night. When he undressed me, and saw things very few have seen.

"So you remember…"

"Yes."

His grip on my waist tightens almost imperceptibly, "And?"

"I hold nothing against you. I was hurt and you were doing what was best for me. In truth, I wish I could not remember. How mortifying."

Jacob chuckles, "It's all right. Nothing I haven't seen before. Er, I mean… That came out wrong."

I giggle at his bashful vulnerability, to which I can practically hear the smile in his voice from above me.

"There's your laugh. It's horrible right now, I know. One day at a time. It'll get better."

"Thank you for being there for me. I know it is not part of your job."

"I think we've moved past the confines of a strictly professional relationship."

"I suppose we have."

We sit in silence for a moment, mulling over this revelation.

"Jacob, will you read to me again?"

"Of course. What would you like to hear?"

"Something melancholy."

He chuckles, but stands and makes his way to the bookshelf as I slump to the mattress, feeling weak. Every time my thoughts are not immediately occupied, they drift back to flames and smoke.

"How is this supposed to make you feel better?" he asks, selecting a book bound in dark leather.

"It is not. I should like to wallow for a while."

"Fair enough. Get comfortable, and get ready for some Edgar Allen Poe."

I have heard of Poe before, the American poet known for his dark short stories and poems. That sounds like just what I need. I make room for him on the bed as he returns, propping himself up against the headboard. I move back into my original position, cuddling deeper into his chest as he cracks open the book. I am reminded of our poetry reading back at Hughenden and the feelings it provoked. I am in no position to pursue any sort of relationship with Jacob. My heart is in pieces and my mind is similar, my emotions couldn't possibly be reliable.

All I must think about is Thomas and what he has done to me. I do not know yet how I will avenge my parents, but I know that I will. Thomas will pay. With daydreams of justice dancing through my head, I am lulled to sleep by Jacob's voice.

* * *

When I wake several hours later, my heavy heart has slightly lightened. I crack my eyes open to find the room brightly lit with afternoon sunshine. I close my eyes again to block out the light. Breath ruffling my hair alerts me to Jacob's presence, our positions have changed. He is lying behind me, a large arm thrown over my waist. I can feel his hard planes pressed against every inch of me. Our position is highly improper, and yet, I find myself molding my body to his. He is warm and strong. Caged in his arms, I feel protected and safe to grieve. I am content to fall back asleep when a sudden feeling pricks my insides. Someone is here.

"Still asleep." Evie says softly from the doorway, barely audible over the sound of the train.

"Indeed." Henry responds.

"It appears they've forgiven each other."

"It makes one wonder what has been happening on this train." Henry muses.

"I should have guessed something was going on. I saw the signs, but I didn't think Jacob would…"

"Neither did I."

"And yet…"

"Here we are."

Evie and Henry seem to have guessed about our relationship. Is there even a relationship? There is silence for a moment, but I can feel them. They have not left yet.

Evie sighs, "I feel horrible for Jessamine. Thomas has turned her life upside down."

"All we can do now is help her to heal, love. Perhaps the Aces will move on to a new target."

"We can only hope. I don't know how she's still standing after everything that's happened."

"She is strong, she will persevere. She is a great candidate for Initiation."

Evie pauses, "Henry, are you saying…"

"I have decided. I was going to tell Jacob, but after last night's events, I figured our attention should be on Miss Disraeli's health."

So Jacob did ask Henry for his approval, and Henry has given it.

"Did you know? About Jessamine and Thomas?" Henry asks.

"I did. His betrayal hurt her very much, I cannot imagine how she feels about him after this morning."

"That family did nothing to deserve any of the pain he has inflicted. I cannot wait to be rid of him."

"Perhaps now we will be. He's done all he can short of accomplishing his initial goal, maybe he'll try other methods of dominating London. Methods that include leaving Jessa alone."

"Any new leads as to his whereabouts?"

"Nothing. His followers are reticent about the location of the stronghold, and Jacob has been lax in his duties now that his attentions are elsewhere."

"Elsewhere indeed." Henry responds, amused.

"Sod off," Jacob growls into my hair, "we're sleeping."

"You're asleep?" Henry asks.

"Lost in the Land of Nod, Greenie."

"We'll leave you alone, then." Evie giggles.

The pair exit the train car and Jacob readjusts himself behind me, using the arm round my waist to tug me deeper into his chest.

"Are you still asleep?" a murmur in my ear asks.

"Yes." I say softly, keeping my eyes closed.

The arm tightens around me, fingers splaying over my stomach.

"How are you feeling?"

"Grief-stricken, angry, confused."

"What can I do?"

"Stay here with me."

"Would you like to talk about anything?"

"Not at the present moment, no. I need to… Well, I do not know what I need. But laying here with you and forgetting my troubles seems the best idea."

Jacob stretches against me, "Mmmm. I am most assuredly in agreement."

 ** _hello! i missed this story so much! life is crazy, finding time to write has been difficult. i hope you enjoyed (well not too much, it was a sad chapter haha). don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know what you thought! i appreciate your unending support of me and my sporadic updates, thank you for your patience! i have started the sequel already, which is going to take a lot of the oc's on a journey that will have a stronger plot and be more book-like as opposed to a fanfiction, which i think will be really enjoyable! stay tuned for that, it'll be worth it ;P i don't know if i have said this already, but i wrote this story when i was a lot younger. i've made edits as i go with some outdated dialogue etc, but there's only so much one can do. i think you'll really enjoy the sequel, it'll be from a much more present and mature standpoint! much love, thank you for reading!_**


	19. Chapter 19

"Happy birthday, Jessamine!" Mother exclaims, wrapping me in a hug as we take our places at the dining table.

My birthday. It is my birthday! We sit just in time for Sarah to enter the room with a small cake. I spare a glance at the empty seat at the head of the table. Father has never missed my birthday, but Mother says he has a diplomatic trip abroad, whatever that means. My heart sinks every time I think about it, but Mother says that I cannot be sad. Father is doing his duty for our country. I do not want to disappoint her, so I keep my head held high.

Sarah places the cake in front of me with a warm smile, taking her place at the wall. It is an almond flour cake, just as I requested, with whipped white frosting. I remember now. This is my fifteenth birthday. And Father should be coming through the door in just a few moments, making me burst into tears with happiness. The door opens and Father enters, still in his traveling coat. He is holding a bouquet of flowers so big I cannot see his face.

"Father!" I shout, leaping from my chair and tackling him with a hug.

"Happy birthday, Jessie!" he exclaims, picking me up and spinning me through the air. My nickname. I have not heard that name in several years; I grew out of it. He sets me down and presents me with the bouquet. Daisies, primroses, forget-me-nots, and violets, smelling as sweet as a spring morning. Tears prick my eyes as I make my way back to the table, taking my place in front of my cake.

"Jessa, darling, why are you crying?"

"I am just so… so happy. Thank you."

Father takes his seat at the head of the table, smiling like Father Christmas. Sarah steps forward to cut the cake. As soon as her knife touches the frosting, a knock sounds on the dining room door. Strange. Sarah should be cutting the cake, giving me the largest piece first. I should be taking a bite. Instead, Sarah makes her way to the dining room door and opens it. Thomas enters the room, smiling at me.

"Happy birthday, Jessa. I've got a present for you."

"You do? Oh, thank you!"

"Will you come to see it?"

I turn to my parents to ask their permission, but find myself in the garden instead. Hughenden looms above me in the dark night, windows dead. Everyone is asleep inside. Thomas places his hand on my shoulder.

"Are you ready to see your present?"

"I cannot bear to wait any longer."

"Say please." he grins at me, his teasing smile warming my stomach.

"Please?"

"Close your eyes."

He moves to stand behind me, placing his hands over my eyes. I lean into his chest, wondering what my present could be.

"Happy birthday!"

A deafening explosion throws me backwards into Mother's dog-roses. Searing heat washes over me. I open my eyes to find the manor engulfed in flames. It is as bright as sunshine, crackling like my fireplace in the winter. I can hear inhabitants within the walls, crying out for help. I hear my parents screaming my name. They are dying. I have to save them! I stumble to my feet.

"Jessamine! Jessamine!"

I rush forward into the heat, I can feel it eating through my skin as I desperately try to find a way into the home. Thomas is suddenly behind me once more, dragging me away from the windows.

"No! Let me go, let me go! I have to save them!"

"Jessamine, up here! Please help us!"

"Mother! Father! _Let me go_!"

I elbow Thomas in the stomach and stomp on his foot, he releases me. The heat is unbearable, I can still hear the screams. He grabs me again, preventing me from moving forward.

"No! Let go of me!"

"Jessamine!"

The manor disappears, the window I was clawing at replaced by a window covered with a metal shade. The warm glow of the fire emanates from the lantern hung on the wall, and the arms restraining me are Jacob's.

"Jessamine! Wake up!"

The manor flickers into my field of vision again, burning as bright as dawn. I fight towards it, pushing away from Thomas and towards my parents.

"Get away from me! Let me go!"

"Wake up! Jessamine, wake up!"

Hughenden fades once more, I pound my fists against the metal cover. The fight drains out of me as the dream slips away. An agonized cry wrenches itself from my chest as I collapse into his arms. Jacob drops to the floor and cradles me to his chest, rocking me back and forth as I cry.

"I - I could not s-save them."

He shushes me, offering me a hand to grip in my shaking fingertips, "Calm down, darling. It was just a dream. Breathe."

I breathe as he suggested, still attempting to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. I have never had a dream like that before.

"He," I pause, swallowing the dry cotton in my throat, "he did this to me. He took everything from me."

"Come on, darling. Let's get you back to bed."

He stands, carrying me to the bed and gently depositing me on the sheets.

"You are limping. Are you all right?"

He settles himself beside me, pulling the covers over us both, "You delivered several well-placed blows. Your training is clearly beginning to take effect."

I sit straight up in bed, guilt overtaking me, "I am so sorry! I - I thought you were Thomas. He was restraining me, I was trying to save my parents from -"

My throat closes up as the dream returns, my fingers tighten round Jacob's once more as I fight to keep the tears at bay. He squeezes my hand. I lay myself down beside him, tucking my knees up to my chest. Only a dream. My corset digs in to my skin, and I am reminded of the fact that I am still fully clothed. Heaving a sigh, I push the sheets off of my body and climb my way over Jacob.

"Where are you going?"

"I shouldn't like to sleep in a corset."

"I shouldn't like to either."

I manage a small smile at his playful comment, removing my shirt and vest and unlacing the corset. Bare chested, I unlatch my trunk and remove a dressing gown. I slip it over my head, reveling in the soft fabric as I slide the pants down my legs. Jacob removed my boots earlier I suppose. I turn around to find his boots and shirt on the floor. I am too emotionally drained to even feel butterflies in my stomach at the sight of his bare chest. I move to climb over him once more, but he stops me midway. I find myself pulled down onto his chest, resting between his legs. The warmth of his bare skin is too much to resist. I am content to fall asleep again, but I am afraid another memory will be tainted.

"Jacob, I - I do not know if I can fall asleep."

"Why is that?"

"I do not want to lose another memory of my parents to Thomas."

"What memory did he take?"

"My fifteenth birthday. I was reliving it in my dream, every moment of it, until he arrived."

"Thomas may be in your dreams, but he is not in your memories. You know what truly happened that day."

"It just felt so real. As if I was back there again, at Hughenden, with my parents and Sarah. I could smell the bouquet my father gave me, I could practically taste the cake."

"You're not alone, Jessa. I'll be here for you every step of the way, and I know several more people that would tell you the same thing."

"I know, it's just not the same. A hole has been ripped in me that nothing could fill."

"It's?"

I raise my head to look at him, "Pardon?"

"You just said it's, not it is."

"Did I?"

"You're starting to sound like a normal person!"

I giggle and smack his chest, "How is it that you can make me laugh when it seems like nothing else could?"

" _It is_ a special talent."

"It's." I correct him.

A chuckle rumbles in his chest beneath me as I lay my head back down. Even if I have to live without my parents, I know that I still have a family in Jacob, Evie, and Henry. This knowledge comforts me.

"Try to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

"I know you will be."

I lean into Jacob's protection as I close my eyes once more. No sooner have I let my mind wander, I find myself back in the gallery hallway of Hughenden. High arched ceilings and wide windows full of daylight. I am walking towards my room, back from breakfast with Mother and Father. As I round the corner, a hand on my wrist tugs me into a guest suite. My startled gasp is silenced by Thomas's lips over mine. He presses me into the wall, his kisses passionate and necessitous. I give in to his embrace until we pull away to catch our breath.

"What on Earth are you doing?"

"I just couldn't wait until Friday. After what you wore last night, I could hardly bear to wait any longer."

He is referring to the deep yellow Spanish silk dress with intricate glass beading, one that I wore for him. I knew he would be driving us to Lady Bassett's estate for her dinner party.

"You liked it? It was for you."

"Yellow suits you. But you always look ravishing no matter what you wear."

Thomas kisses me breathless again. A sound stops my reciprocation, a voice. I remember this day, we were almost caught. I pull away and press a finger to his lips to stop his protest. I recognize the voices approaching us, Clara and Liza, two of our maids.

"I'll just finish the dusting in these rooms, and then I'll meet you downstairs for lunch." Liza says, directly outside of our door.

Thomas's eyes grow wide with panic for a moment before he grabs my hand and rushes across the room to the closet. He opens the doors and pulls me in before closing them behind us. Just as we grow still, the door to the bedroom opens and Liza steps inside. The closet is dark and small enough to leave no room to turn around. I am pressed against Thomas, palms against his chest. We are both breathing heavily, hearts beating fast and minds sharpened with adrenaline. If we were to be caught by Liza, there would be absolutely no explanation for our situation. The maid hums softly to herself as she makes her way about the room. Thomas and I can only gaze at each other in the dim light. She approaches the closet. I feel my chest tighten, my fingers closing around Thomas's shirt. She brushes past, not bothering to open the closet. After what seems like an eternity, Liza finishes her cleaning and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Thomas and I explode from the closet, collapsing to the bed in a fit of laughter.

"I thought we would be -"

"So did I."

We catch our breath and gaze at the ceiling, happiness replacing the fear coursing through my veins. Sneaking around is quite fun.

"I am in need of some assistance. I just cannot seem to strike a match. I need to light something, will you help me?"

A match? No. Thomas is supposed to kiss me again.

"Of course."

We sit up, and he produces a matchbook from inside of his coat. He hands it to me. I take a match from the book and strike it against the paper. It hisses to life, the little flame dancing at the end of the stick like a spirit from the great beyond. I hand the glowing match to him.

"Thank you, Jessamine."

Without a moment's hesitation, he drops the flame to the quilt of the bed. The pale purple fabric immediately sets ablaze. I leap from the bed before my skirts can catch fire.

"Thomas! We have to put it out!"

I glance back to him, but he has disappeared.

"Thomas? Thomas!"

The fire has consumed the quilt and has leapt to the curtains, blackening the wallpaper. Smoke is thickening the air and blocking out the sunlight. I rush to the door as the smoke invades my lungs, coughing and gasping for air. The door is locked. Whirling to face the room, I find the bed and curtains scorched. The fire has stuck to the wallpaper, steadily traveling closer to me. I turn back to the door, pounding on the wood.

"Someone, help me! Please help me! Thomas!"

"Jessamine!"

I turn to find Thomas standing behind me, he takes my hand, "I can save you, but there could be consequences. No time to explain. Do you want to survive?"

"Yes!"

I blink and find myself outside the door of the burning room. The screams from within make my blood run cold.

"Help!" Father yells, "please, someone help us!"

"Father!"

I rush to the door, but the handle is too hot to grasp.

"Jessamine? Is that you?" Mother shouts from behind the door, voice hoarse.

"Yes! Yes, it's me."

"Please, let us out! Please!"

I reach for the handle once more, but I can only graze it before the heat forces me to pull away. I can hear muffled coughs from behind the painted wood. If I do not do something soon, they will die. Where is everyone? The hallway is deserted, everyone must be asleep.

"Someone, please help me! My parents are stuck inside! Please!"

I kick the door as hard as I can. It does not work. I throw my shoulder against it, but the thick wood hardly budges.

"Jessamine, please, do something!"

"I - I am trying!"

Panic wells up in my throat as I continue to beat the door. I can feel the heat from within, I can hear my parents fighting the door from the other side. I know what I must do. Gritting my teeth and setting my jaw, I reach forward and grasp the handle. The heat immediately sears through my skin, but I push down anyways. The handle snaps, clattering to the floor.

"No!"

"Jessa, please!" Father yells from behind the door, his voice weak.

My hand is numb, my skin bright red and ashy black. I beat against the door again, pounding with my fists and kicking with my heels. It is as if it was made of stone.

"It is not working!"

No voices answer me from the other side of the door, only the muffled crackle of the flames.

"Mother! Father!"

Nothing. No. They couldn't be.

"Father? Mother! Please!"

"The consequences, Jessamine." says a voice from behind me.

Thomas is here. He shakes his head, clicking his tongue with disapproval.

"That was rather selfish of you. Sacrificing your own parents? I could never have expected that from you, Jessa."

"Please, Thomas. Please help me!"

"It's too late. You made your choice, and now your parents must suffer for it. This is your fault."

"My fault."

Guilt invades my senses as the dream melts away. Was their death my fault? I made the decision to run away, I eluded Thomas. I made him go to my parents. I practically lead him to them!

My train car appears when I open my eyes, Jacob beneath me and sound asleep. I can feel my stomach begin to heave, but I couldn't bear to wake him up. I must have kept him awake all night. I scramble off of him as deftly as I can, hardly able to unbolt the door before collapsing to my knees and vomiting off the side of the train. The wheels roar beneath me, the wind whipping the stray strands of hair that have escaped my braid. I can hardly catch my breath. Gripping the side of the train for support, I gaze at the tracks flying by underneath my feet as I regain control over my body. My right hand is numb, even though I never touched the burning handle. A hand at my shoulder and another at my elbow helps me to my feet. Jacob leads me back to bed in slow, steady steps. I collapse to the mattress, the vile taste of vomit lingering in my throat. No matter how hard I try to calm it, my breathing remains ragged. Curled onto my side, Jacob tucks the stray hairs behind my ear before leaving me to bolt the door. The sounds of the train become muffled once more. He sits beside me in silence.

"Thank you." I manage to say.

He does not respond, instead reaching to grab a small glass of water from the table. He offers it to me. I take the cup, slowly propping myself up on my elbow and tipping the water past my dry lips. The water tastes strange, sweet, but it helps to wash away the tang of bile. Jacob puts the cup back before sliding down the bed and beneath the covers. He pulls me into his chest, his arms caging around me and making me feel safe again.

"This will all get better with time. Give it time."

Time. This time last night, my parents were burning to death. This time last night, Thomas ripped away my identity. My soul. My heart. My family. These dreams… Such beautiful memories. Memories I cherished. Memories with my parents, with Thomas. One by one, they are being ruined. I do not want to sleep again, even as I feel my eyes slip closed.

I am back in the gardens of Hughenden, before Mother began her renovation project. My sketchbook in hand, I am perched on one of the many benches scattered along the walking path. Tucked in a copse of weeping willow trees, I am sketching our stone pond and its pure white water lilies. I remember this day almost immediately. As I finish the shading on this very stone, Thomas will be arriving to sweep me off my feet. I bite my lower lip in concentration, attempting to mirror the shadows cast by the midday sun. I complete the stone with a flourish of my pencil and am about to set in on the next, but a voice breaks my focus.

"That's a very beautiful drawing, Miss Disraeli." a man says from over my shoulder.

Excited butterflies warm my stomach when I recognize the voice. It is our driver, the tall, blonde Adonis that has been paying me special attention ever since he arrived several weeks ago.

"It is not nearly finished." I respond, resuming the process of shading the next stone.

"And yet I can still see your talent." his voice murmurs rather close to my ear.

"You are too kind."

He moves to sit beside me, still dressed in his work clothes. Unease pricks my insides. We are outside, where anyone could see us. What would Mother think if she saw me speaking to a man without a chaperone? I abandon my feeble attempts to continue, his presence is too much of a distraction.

"May I help you with something?" I ask, turning to him.

His eyes catch me off guard for a moment, a startling green. His charming smile stirs my heart as his palm finds its way to my cheek. I do not recall him being so bold in my memory.

"You may. You see, I am in need of some assistance. I just cannot seem to strike a match. I need to light something, will you help me?"

"Of course."

His warm hand leaves my face, and he produces a matchbook from inside of his coat. He hands it to me. I take a match from the book and strike it against the paper. I hand the glowing match to him.

"Thank you, Jessamine."

He stands and wanders away down the path. He disappears behind a trimmed hedge. No, that is not right. Thomas is supposed to stay. We talk. He kisses me. He does not leave. I stand, throwing the sketchbook to the ground and following him down the path as fast as my kid boots will allow. I round the corner and arrive at the edge of the garden. I see him ahead of me, approaching several crates stacked beneath the first story window of the library. I am first content to observe again, but a small voice inside of me tells me that this is wrong. This is not my memory. I start forward as Thomas lays the match down on the pile of crates. Now that I am closer, I can see their markings. They are explosives.

He is running, running in the opposite direction. I reach the crates, picking up the crate with the lit match. It will explode at any moment, as soon as the fire burns through the wood. I will not let him hurt my family. I turn, clutching the crate tightly in my arms, and run away from Hughenden as fast as I can. I run down the hill and back into the garden. I see my sketchbook on the ground, open to the drawing of Jacob's scars. The crate explodes.

I awaken with a gasp, startling a half-asleep Jacob. He shushes me immediately, stroking my hair and telling me that everything will be all right. After he make me drink the rest of the sweet water, I lay on my back and gaze at the ceiling above.

"That dream. It was different. In my other dreams, I only knew that something was wrong… But this time, I knew that it was a dream. I stopped him. I saved my family. I took the crate. I died, but my parents did not. They were safe."

 ** _hi! wow it's been a hot moment. jessa's really going through it. all i can say is just wait. ;P i really hope you enjoyed reading! i've been writing the sequel to this story and let me tell y'all it's really shaping up. i am so so grateful for your continued support amidst my sporadic updates; i will be finished with university this week and then will be working to put the final touches on this first installment and get it all posted! to those of you that have stuck with me through all of this - you know exactly who you are and i appreciate your reviews more than you will ever know - THANK YOU! let me know what you thought. see you soon xx_**


	20. Chapter 20

I finally awaken in the early evening just as the sun is sinking. More memories of mine were marred in my sleep; I lost the evening Thomas and I stole almond cakes from the kitchen, the day Mother taught me to play our lullaby on the piano… All of my dreams ended in fire caused by Thomas, fire I was unable to prevent. I lived through each dream without a pause in between. I did not save my parents again after the dream in the gardens.

A weight on my chest forces me to stir. I come face to face with a pair of large silver eyes staring directly into mine. The tiny black creature appears unfazed by my shock, its little tail swishing back and forth over my stomach. It is a kitten. A small black kitten no larger than my head. A deep ruby ribbon is tied round its neck, with a note dangling at its chest. There, in Jacob's distinct penmanship, is the kitten's name.

"Poe."

Perhaps named after the poet that Jacob read for me after yesterday's bombshell? I reach out a hand and allow Poe to sniff my fingers. He nuzzles my palm with his tiny head, his purring buzzes against my chest. The thoughtfulness of the gesture makes my heart swell, the silky fur beneath my fingertips calming my emotions. I have to find him and thank him for the gift.

The other side of the note explains that the water he gave me was laced with belladonna to help me sleep, which was delivered by Evie. That would explain why I slept until dinner time and was unable to wake up to stop the dreams. I appreciate the gesture, but I don't believe it worked. I feel as if I have not slept in days.

I tentatively slide my fingers beneath Poe, and when he does not appear to be distressed by my touch, I gently pick him up and deposit him on the bed beside me. I have hardly taken one step away from the bed when a small meow grabs my attention. Poe has moved to the edge, calling for my help in getting him down. He is too tiny to do it himself. I pick him up and deposit him on the floor, his body weighing no more than my coloring pencils. I dress myself slowly as Poe explores the room. He appears happy to be cuddled as I approach him and pick him up, cradling the small ball of fur in my arms. He lifts my heavy heart.

A box at the foot of my bed that I hadn't noticed before draws my attention. Stroking Poe, I approach the box and peer inside. A note rests atop the dark contents, also in Jacob's handwriting.

 ** _This is what we could save. I hope it can be enough._**

The darkness. It's ash. Soot coats the debris filling the meager apple crate as recognition dawns. A metal soup ladle from the kitchen, partially melted. A pair of gardening shears. The scraps of the thick tapestry that hung in my parents' bedroom. I can vividly recall each item as it was in my home. Each item now coated in ash, destroyed by flame. The framed portrait I kept in my sitting room. The frame is badly damaged, the glass casing shattered. Ash has marred the sketch, but the faces of my younger self and my parents behind me are still discernible. I trace the faded lines with my fingertip, as if touching their likeness on paper will bring their warmth back to me.

Poe wriggles in my arms and tugs me back to reality, pulling me away from the memories. I should not dwell on pain this fresh. I cannot sort through my past life so soon. Forcing a deep breath through clenched teeth, I cuddle Poe and turn away from the box. The door of my train car is unlocked, meaning Jacob has come and gone.

I leap over the gap and greet Agnes, who asks how I am doing and fawns over the kitten. I fake a smile and tell her that I am feeling better than I did yesterday. I continue towards the dining car, eager to find Jacob and thank him for the present. Poe is very well behaved; he seems content to be carried around. I pause just out of view of the dining table, listening for voices.

"Absolutely not," Jacob is saying, "not a bloody chance."

"Then we are in agreement." Henry responds, his voice sounding tight.

"But what are we to do? You know as well as I do that this is no bluff." Evie says, worry in her voice.

"We wait. We stay vigilant and stop them before they can act."

"If we lose the shop..." Evie murmurs, sounding on the verge of tears.

I hear Henry shush her, imagining him putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. Lose the shop? What has happened?

"We won't." Jacob says firmly.

I make my presence known by rounding the corner. As I assumed, a tearful Evie is leaning into Henry's embrace on one side of the booth. Jacob sits on the other side.

"Is everything all right?"

Evie sniffs and removes herself from her husband's arms, "Hello, Jessa. I didn't hear you come in."

"We've received a note from our friendly local band of Templars." Jacob says, handing me a sheet of paper.

The note is smooth in my fingers. It is torn at the top from where I can only presume it had been nailed to something. My heart almost stops beating when I recognize Thomas's handwriting. Black ink is scrawled along the paper, his letters neat and clear. The unique way he writes his letter e's is unforgettable.

 **THIS "HIDƐOUT" IS THƐ NƐXT TO BURN TO ASH IF JƐSSAMINƐ IS NOT DƐLIVƐRƐD TO MƐ. CHARING CROSS PIƐR, MIDNIGHT, ALONƐ AND UNARMƐD. DON'T BƐ LATƐ.**

"We found it outside of the shop this morning, nailed to the door." Evie says.

I thought that he had moved on, that he would leave me alone. What more could he possibly take from me? Now he knows about the location of the curiosity shop, Evie and Henry's home. If they were to lose it… My grip on Poe tightens.

"Why does he want me now? He murdered my parents. My father is no longer in any position of power."

"Morgan's a tenacious one, I'll give him that." Jacob murmurs, deep in thought.

There is a weighted silence around the table. Poe's soft purrs hum against my chest. Just the thought of seeing Thomas again makes my stomach clench, but I should rather put myself in harm's way than risk the safety of what little family I have left — a family not even related to me by blood.

"I should go," I blurt out, breaking the quiet, "maybe I could reason with him. End the madness."

"Jessa, there's no reasoning with a psychopath. It can't be done!" Evie argues.

"I believe the best course of action would be to lay in wait for their attack on the shop. We could stop it if we were aided by the rest of the Brotherhood." Henry muses, tugging on an earring.

"But if we cannot stop them, we lose the shop. What will we lose after that? Thomas will continue to take until there is nothing left. I must go. He said himself that he would never hurt me. I will meet with him and return."

"No," Jacob growls up at me from his position in the booth, "I won't allow it. It's too dangerous."

"I have to agree." his sister says.

"I do, as well," Henry concludes, "we have seen what he is capable of, Jessamine. It is not safe for you to be alone with him, regardless of what he has told you."

Poe wiggles in my arms, perhaps eager to explore this new train car, so I set him down on the floor. Evie, as if just noticing the kitten, breaks into a smile.

"Who is that little one?"

"His name is Poe," I smile at her, pleased with the subject change to draw their attention away from my decision, "Jacob got him for me."

Henry and Evie turn to Jacob, matching looks of barely veiled shock on their faces. Jacob has been caught being soft, and he appears to be immensely uncomfortable.

"Jessamine mentioned she feels lonely. I figured a pet would help to keep her spirits up."

"You got her a kitten?" Henry asks, a grin slowly spreading across his features.

"Sod off." Jacob grumbles, folding his arms and gazing out the window.

His tough demeanor is not perpetuated by Poe, who calls to him from the floor asking to be allowed onto the booth. Jacob succumbs on the third meow, rolling his eyes and picking him up with one hand. Poe happily circles his spot on the booth before laying down and kneading his claws into the fabric, his black ears not even coming close to clearing the tabletop.

Alan appears from the kitchen with several dishes, "Here's dinner!"

Where I would expect my stomach to rumble with hunger, I feel nothing. I do not remember the last time I ate. I pick up a mildly disgruntled Poe from his position next to Jacob, taking his spot and placing him on my lap. He is quick to become comfortable once more. I am grateful for the change in discussion. It would seem that they have made the decision for me, but I will not be swayed so easily.

Alan further distracts the group by setting down a large plate of sausages and a tureen of mashed potatoes. It would appear my decisions have escaped the attention of the three assassins in favor of dinner.

"Bangers and mash!" Evie says excitedly, filling her plate with the potatoes as Henry looks on, amused.

"This is bangers and mash?" I ask Jacob, recalling our conversation several days ago.

He hands me a plate: a sausage and a dollop of potatoes. Yesterday the prospect of enjoying a new dish would have excited me. Now, I feel as if I couldn't bear to eat a grain of rice. I set the plate down in front of me, slowly slicing the sausage into pieces. Nausea teases at my stomach.

"You must scoop the potatoes and then stab the sausage so you get them together." Evie says, mouth completely full.

I dip my fork into the potatoes, slowly swirling the pale mixture round in circles. Jacob notices my hesitation almost immediately.

"Are you hungry?"

I already know what he will say, but I respond anyway, "Not really, no."

"Jessamine, you should eat. It's been almost a full day since you've last had a proper meal."

"I am sorry. I do not think I can."

"Jessa…"

Poe stands up in my lap to inquisitively sniff the contents of my plate. Alan comes back with a small dish of scraps.

"I haven't forgotten you, cat."

He sets the dish on the floor. Poe expresses his wish to get down to the ground with a series of meows, and I oblige him. He pads over to his dish, and after a careful inspection, he eats. Alan sees my uneaten plate.

"Can I get you something else, Miss Jessamine?"

"Thank you, Alan, but I am just not very hungry this evening."

He inclines his head in understanding and retreats to the corner to clean the remains of dinner. It appears Jacob has elected to drop the matter, and the only sound round the table is the steady chewing of my companions. In the silence, I make my choice. I must go tonight. I couldn't bear for Evie and Henry to lose their home because of me, especially with Evie's pregnancy. I brought Thomas into their lives, and it is my duty to take him out.

"We'd best be going, we're going to need all the help we can get on such short notice," Evie says, standing up from the booth, "please, both of you, stay here and get some rest. It's been a taxing few days."

Henry follows suit as I rise to say goodbye. She kisses my cheek before wrapping me in a hug.

"Goodnight, Jessa. Be safe. We'll solve this."

"Goodnight, Evie. Thank you."

After a hug from Henry the two of them depart the train, leaping to the tracks and vanishing into the darkness.

"And then there were two." Jacob says, turning to face me.

A meow causes him to roll his eyes, "Three."

I turn to the little black kitten gazing up at me from the floor. I bend down and pick him up. He cuddles into my lap immediately.

"Where did you get him?"

"A friend. Do you like him?"

"I do. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

We gaze at each other for a moment before I lower my eyes, rising from the booth.

"I should be going to bed."

"Will you be all right alone?"

If I truly was intending to go to bed, I am certain I would ask for his companionship.

"Yes, I believe I will be. Thank you."

"Knock if you need anything."

I manage a serene smile before turning on my heel and carrying Poe back to my train car. I place him on the bed and bolt the door connecting me to Jacob's car. Only when I am finally alone do the nerves set in. I am going to see Thomas again. I am going to look into the eyes of the man that murdered my parents. What does he want with me? I cannot begin to imagine. A small part of me is convinced that he will apologize and make things right, but I know that is too much to hope for.

In the bottom of my trunk, Sarah placed an emergency stash of money. I take some of it — six shillings and six pence. I have never taken a cab before, I haven't the faintest idea how much it will cost to get to Charing Cross Pier. I should write Jacob a note, should I not? No. If he finds it before I have spoken to Thomas, he will try to stop me. Steeling my nerves, I pick up Poe from the bed and drop a kiss on top of his head.

"I'll be back soon, little one."

I set him on the floor with a pat and make my way to the door on the other end of the train car. I step out into the night air, the wind whipping about the few strands of hair that have escaped my braid. The stars twinkle above me through the thin layer of smoke clouding the air. We must be close to an industrial area. I slam the door behind me, keeping Poe shut safely inside my train car. I take a deep breath and leap from the train, hitting the ground and rolling once before using my momentum to push myself onto my feet. I wish Jacob could have seen that, he would be proud.

The train chugs steadily on, leaving me behind. I watch as it rounds a corner and disappears, taking Jacob with it. This is the first time I have ever been alone in the city, left to my own devices. I draw my hood over my head and straighten my spine. The Elizabeth Tower chimes ten o'clock across the River Thames, and the countdown begins. Two hours until I come face to face with Thomas.

I cross the tracks and pause at the edge of the bridge. The cobbles lay in wait about six meters below me, glowing faintly in the lantern light along the street. The buildings here are mostly factories, faded brick and dilapidated wood. In faded white paint I can make out the words "Southwark Ironworks" on one of the buildings. I am in Southwark. I have never stepped foot in Southwark before, nor anywhere on this side of the River Thames. The thought causes nerves to clench my stomach, but I force them away. The streets are still rather busy for a late evening, perhaps factory workers walking home - or to the pub - after a long day of labor. I can only hope I am not troubled by anyone, particularly an Ace.

I recall the day I descended the side of a building with Jacob before peering over the side of the bridge for possible handholds as he taught me to do. I see a lantern holder and several small ledges along the length of the post holding the bridge up. It seems that is my route. I turn around and lower myself until my feet are resting on the first ledge and my hands are grasping the top of the bridge. I glance down at the next ledge and let go of the bridge before I have a chance to become nervous. There is a thrilling moment of freely falling before my hands discover the ledge my feet just left. The gas light flickers beneath my toes, the only separation between the flame and my leather boots being a thin layer of glass. I swallow. I shall have to push myself out rather far from the post to clear the lantern. If I miss, there are still four meters between myself and stone. That is quite a fall. But I cannot stop now.

I push away from the wall. I reach for the metal holder, but my hand slips over the pole. The side of the lantern slices my right hand as I grasp at air, but it is too late. The sensation of falling grips my stomach. I try to grab for the post once more, but I have pushed myself too far away. The ground rushes up to meet me, hard cobbles connect first with my rear and then my shoulders. My head is thrown backwards into the cobbles despite my attempt to hold it up. The pain is sharp and stars blink through my vision. My breath is knocked out of me. And thus I lay in the middle of the street, gasping and shaking, staring up at the stars.

I mentally evaluate my injuries: a bleeding right hand and intense pain where I first hit the ground. My tailbone and my head are aching, my bad shoulder is throbbing. I catch my breath before slowly sitting up. No one has stopped to look at me despite the spectacle I have made of myself. Perhaps because I did not scream. Hm. I even fall silently. My training must be paying off.

A hansom cab is making its way down the cobbles towards me, the first I have seen tonight. I force myself to stand, ignoring the protests of my body. I limp to the side of the road and wave at the driver as he draws closer. He sees me and pulls over. I hide my bleeding hand behind my back.

"A ride, Miss?"

"Yes please, Sir, to Charing Cross Pier."

"Climb aboard."

I climb into the cab and the driver snaps the reins, moving us back onto the road. I allow my composure to crack now that he cannot see my face. I do not believe anything is broken, thank goodness. I will most certainly have several bruises. My damaged shoulder, likely still not in fighting shape from Margaret's pummeling, is what hurts most of all. I roll my shoulders and press my fingers into the aching muscle. I tear a bit of fabric from my shirt and wrap it round the side of my right hand. Luckily the cut is not too deep, but it will not stop bleeding any time soon.

I have to push through. For Evie, for Henry, for Jacob. For my parents. For myself. My heart needs closure. I need to know why all of this happened to me, why I became Thomas's victim. I need him to tell me why.

The cab glides over the bridge, the river glistening in the light of the full moon. As we get closer to our destination, a feeling of dread begins to pool in my stomach. I know that Thomas is dangerous, but he said that he would never hurt me. He showed me such tenderness when we were lovers, which now seems like a century ago. Perhaps he is psychotic. But once upon a time, he was the man that would have protected me from men like who he is now. And despite everything that has happened, I just cannot manage to let go of the past.

The Elizabeth Tower chimes eleven as the driver pulls into the dockyard. It is dark here, no street lights to glow. Only the moon.

"Four shillings, Miss."

I hand him the coins and disembark. With a snap of the reins, he is gone. I am alone once more. I limp farther into the dockyard, the dormant cranes and stacks of shipping crates casting eerie moonlit shadows. My boots click over the uneven cobbles, my senses on high alert. The yard appears to be deserted. I wander to the edge of the pier, gazing into the black water below. Suddenly, the hair at the back of my neck tingles. He's here.

"You're early."

 _ **hello! please forgive how long this chapter took to post, life has been a bit crazy (in a good way). things are building to a fever pitch, my friends, and i hope you're as ready as i am to see what happens next! i'm curious to see what your predictions are, let me know what you think. thank you, as always, for your continued support of this story. believe it or not, there are only three more chapters until we get to the sequel! this has been such a fun adventure, i started writing this story years ago and it's been crazy to see how it's changed. i can promise that the sequel is truly shaping up to be better than this one, so stick around! see you soon xoxo**_


	21. Chapter 21

Thomas's eyes glint ominously in the moonlight, giving him an otherworldly appearance. He looks just as I saw him last, and yet, he appears to be different. Perhaps it is because I know what lies beneath. We gaze at each other for a moment, silent.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"Unarmed?"

"Yes."

"Good girl."

Thomas raises his right hand. I hear footsteps. Many footsteps. Dark shadows emerge from behind walls and machinery. Men. Men in red. I am surrounded by easily twenty or more. I could not fight them even if I wanted to. It was a trap.

"What are you doing?"

"Hush, Jessamine. We're just going for a little ride."

He nods to someone over my shoulder. Before I can turn, two men are restraining me on either side. A third rips the hood from my head, stuffing a gag into my mouth and slipping a blindfold over my eyes. With my sight taken from me, a survival instinct kicks in. I stomp on the foot of the brute holding my right arm, a move that was effective on Thomas. This man, however, does not react. A cold chuckle reaches my ears.

"Steel-toed boots, Jessa. A rather glorious invention. You've taught me a thing or two."

My pained cry comes out as a muffled murmur as someone kicks my knees out from behind. My collapse to the ground is halted by the men holding my arms. A third pair of hands grasp my ankles and hoist me into the air. I struggle mightily against my captors, kicking my legs and thrusting my arms about, but it is as effective as fighting stone. I am carried away from the river. The men stay silent. Fear blooms in my stomach, hopelessness stirring my chest. He is taking me, and I am powerless to stop him. Where are we going?

I am tossed into a carriage, accompanied by two Aces from what I can hear. I am seated on the floor, one on either side of me. A boot on my shoulder kicks me forward, and my wrists are bound behind my back with rough rope. Any hope of escape is fleeting. I could attempt to get out of the carriage, but without my sight or the use of my hands, it will be nearly impossible against two men. I have run out of ideas.

The carriage begins our journey, bumping over the cobbles and jostling me around. Without my hands to stabilize myself, I resort to laying on the floor of the carriage to keep myself stable. I can feel the toes of a man's pair of boots pressing into my back. I did not leave Jacob a note, he will have no idea where I am. I can only hope he thinks to look for me at Charing Cross Pier, but I doubt that Thomas and his goons left anything behind for him to track us with. I try to follow the turns of the carriage, but I am quickly disoriented. I can see no way to escape this situation, and panic is beginning to grow. The carriage slows to a halt. I hear the door open. A calloused pair of hands hauls me to my feet and shoves me out of the carriage. I hit the cobbles with a painful thud.

"Get up." a gruff voice tells me.

I climb to my knees, ragged breaths hindering my progress. I push myself up to my feet with slow, aching movements. My body has been through too much this night. A hand at my back shoves me forward.

"Move."

I walk forward, cobbles uneven beneath my feet. I stumble twice. I hear a heavy door open and I am ushered inside. It shuts behind us. I continue forward with the prodding of the hand at my back. I am walking on wooden planks. I can feel eyes on me as I pass. We must be in some sort of stronghold. We pass through three more doors and down several flights of stairs before I am told to stop moving. The gruff man leaves the room, shutting the heavy door behind him.

I attempt to call out a hello, but it is muffled to nothingness by the gag in my mouth. I stand as still as possible, trying to calm my pounding heart and listen for any other people in the room. It remains silent. I extend my foot forward and feel for any obstacles, and it is in this fashion that I make my way to the wall of the room. I wander around the perimeter of the room, trailing my upper arm along the wall. It is a small room, nothing on or against the walls from what I can sense. I find the door, but upon inspection with my elbow, I cannot find the handle. My only guess is that it is opened from the other side. I make my way to the center of the room, bumping into something at stomach level. It appears to be a wooden surface of some kind, a table.

"Are you finished with your exploring, Jessa?"

The voice directly at my ear frightens me, I whirl but cannot attack my assailant. I know that it is Thomas. His voice is burned into my memory. Soft hands at my cheeks pull the gag from my mouth. I inhale gulps of fresh air as his revolting fingers caress my chin. I want to bite them. Instead, I take a step away. I cannot retreat any farther, the table blocks my escape.

"You're not afraid of me, are you?"

I do not want to tell him that I am. I do not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he terrifies me. I hear his boots close the remaining distance between us.

"Answer me, Jessamine."

I remain silent. He does not like this answer. He delivers a painful backhand across my left cheek, snapping my head to the side. My cheek stings and a startled gasp escapes me, but I do not respond. He grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning my head back towards him. I cannot see him, but I can imagine the murder in his eyes.

"You must understand, Jessa. I will not remove your binds until I see that you are willing to cooperate. Do you understand?"

I take a deep breath and will myself to remain strong, regardless of the blows he rains upon me.

"I asked you a question."

I tense, waiting for another strike. It does not come.

"Very well. We will have to resort to other methods."

His fingers leave my face and his boots tread along the boards to the door. He knocks and it opens, confirming my theory that it does not have a handle. It shuts heavily behind him, and I am truly alone. I am at an utter loss. A loss for words, a loss of ideas of escape. A loss of hope. Thomas has taken so much from me; now he has taken my freedom. I am locked deep within a stronghold of Templars. It is almost certain that Jacob has not even discovered I am missing yet.

* * *

I have no idea how long it has been, but I can assume at least a day. My stomach is empty and my throat is as dry as the Sahara. I have experienced no human interaction, aside from the occasional sound of boots above me and outside my door. Upon a detailed inspection of the room, I have found a chamber pot in addition to the wooden table. There is a hook on the wall at head height by the door, which I suppose is for a lantern. There are no windows from what I can tell. But my most terrifying discovery was the set of shackles dangling from the ceiling and another set bolted to the floor, which I ran into by mistake. I have made myself comfortable — if one could call it that — beneath the table, enjoying the shelter above my head and a wooden leg to lean on.

I have come to understand what Thomas meant by "other methods". My guess is that he intends to starve me until I give in. And while my stomach is begging me to do so, I cannot bear to. I can hear Jacob's voice telling me to be strong. He has most assuredly found me to be missing by now, and I imagine he is rather worried. Likely very upset with me, as well. I cannot believe how stupid I was to believe that Thomas meant me no harm. Even after the three assassins warned me, I still refused to listen. My naivety is going to get me killed. In fact, it would seem that it already has. Does Thomas intend to kill me? I haven't a clue what he wants.

The door opens. I do not bother moving from beneath the table, it seems the safest place I can be. If he wants me to move, I am sure he will have no problem telling me to do so.

"You've lasted longer than I thought you would," Thomas says from the doorway, "for an heiress, that is. It's been a day, Jessamine. Have you decided you would like to eat?"

I do not answer him, choosing to remain curled up beneath the table. There is silence for a moment before the door shuts. I am alone again. I do not know what his motive is, but I will continue to resist anything he asks of me until I find out.

* * *

Time has passed. I am nearly delirious with thirst, but I refuse to give in. I have no way of knowing where the sun is in the sky, but the hours have dragged on longer than before. I feel sick. I have used the chamber pot once. Many, many hours ago. Thomas has not returned.

I have passed the time wandering about the room. I have discovered that it is a perfect square, twenty seven steps across in both directions. I have also spent time beneath the wooden table, daydreaming. I imagine that instead of being blindfolded, I have closed my eyes. That I am resting beneath the weeping willow tree in our garden, leaning against its trunk. I have imagined it so many times that I have almost felt it to be real if I remain very still. I can feel the sunshine on my cheeks and the breeze stirring my hair. Sometimes Jacob and Evie are there with me, sometimes it is my parents. I have imagined our conversations. It distracts me from the pain in my stomach. I have not slept, I have not been able to.

The door opens.

"Three more days have passed, Jessamine. How am I to give you food and water if you still refuse to cooperate?"

I remain silent. I feel safe beneath the willow tree. He cannot harm me.

"Need I remind you that the human body cannot last more than a week without water?"

Silence. He leaves.

* * *

It has become harder to get up to pace the room. I know that I am weakening myself, but what is the point of remaining strong? There is no escape, and I have given up. My last defense is my will power. I can tell Thomas has become frustrated with me, he has expected me to break. I spend my hours beneath the willow tree. Jacob has read me many poems. He brought Poe to visit me as well, I missed my kitten very much. I force myself to roll over. I can hardly feel myself move, my body and my mind are not one anymore. I do not feel hungry or thirsty. A dull ache has replaced all of those feelings, spreading through my muscles.

The door opens.

"Jessamine. You have to drink, darling."

I gasp and sit up, smacking my head on the underside of the table. The pain shocks my body into feeling again.

"Jacob?" the voice that comes out of me sounds like dry, cracked leather.

"Of course not. A whole week, Jessamine. Your body will not last much longer."

It is Thomas. I could have sworn I heard Jacob's voice. Jacob. Jacob would want me to survive. I must drink. He wants me to drink. I drag myself from beneath the table on slow, shaky arms.

"That's more like it."

The door closes and Thomas approaches me in a few quick strides. I can feel his presence above me, but I cannot push myself to my feet. He crouches before me.

"I have brought you some bread and water, but you must promise to speak to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"No, Jessa. I need you to tell me that you understand. You must always tell me that you understand, or there will be consequences."

"I understand."

"Good girl."

He is being kind to me. I feel gentle hands on my body, pulling me into his arms. I recoil at his touch, but I am too weak to even consider getting away. He holds me like a child, placing a cup of water at my lips. I drink. The water restores some life within me, spreading through my veins. He rips a piece of bread and places it at my lips.

When I am fed and watered he lifts me to my feet and places me on the table. I do not have the strength to hold myself up, so he does it for me.

"Jessa, love, you must never do that again. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Do you understand?" he repeats, tone measured.

"I understand."

"Good girl. Now it is time for your punishment."

Punishment. The word sparks a flame of fear inside of me. I knew his kindness was an act.

"You refused to eat for seven days. Thus, seven scores. You cannot disrespect such a beautiful creature. Do you understand?"

My voice sounds small and fearful, "I understand."

"Good."

He releases me, my weakened muscles doing nothing to stop my collapse onto the table. Thomas ties my ankles to the table before cutting the bonds on my wrists and attaching them to the table as well, above my head. I pull against the rope, but he has tied it tightly.

"I want you to see this."

The blindfold is torn from my head. I blink against the lantern light, watching it create macabre shadows across the wooden walls. The first light I have seen in a week. The room looks just as I imagined. Thomas stands over me, a wicked grin on his face.

"Hello, my love. Here are the rules of this game. If you look away, you receive more. If you scream, you receive more. If you struggle, you receive more. Do you understand?"

I swallow once, hard. What is he going to do to me?

"I understand."

"Good."

He lays a hand on my waist. I pull away from his touch, but he raises an eyebrow at me and digs his nails into my skin.

"Struggling, Jessa? Eight."

My chest tightens as his fingers slip beneath my jacket and find the waistband of my pants. He tugs, slowly sliding them down my thighs and over my knees. I am breathing as quickly as if I have run a full kilometer. I pull away from him again, but I cannot go far.

"Nine, Jessamine."

"Thomas, please. I -"

"Quiet."

The venom in his voice silences me. My pants have been pushed past my knees, leaving me in my undergarments. Thomas slides those away too, leaving me completely and utterly exposed to him. A hot, angry blush blooms in my cheeks, my skin crawling with intense discomfort and steadily mounting fear. I am vulnerable.

"Thomas," I try to beg again, "please, do not do this."

He looks over at me, shaking his head, "You did this to yourself."

Panic takes over my senses. Every nerve in my body is screaming at me to fight, to get away. But if I struggle, he will hurt me more. I watch with wide eyes as the tip of his dagger gets closer and closer to the delicate skin of my upper thigh. It cuts like a hot knife through butter, and I scream.

"Ten!" he yells over my cries, dragging the knife through my skin in a distinct pattern. A mark I have seen many times before on the clothing of the Aces. It is the Templar symbol.

"One done. Nine more to go."

The reality of the situation sinks in, but I do not dare to move for fear of making the number eleven. Tears stream down my cheeks as he readies himself for the second cut. I hear myself begging him to stop, pleading for mercy. He ignores me.

Thomas traces the lines he cut into my flesh, my blood streaming from the wound and coating my thigh. The feeling is intense, almost unbearable. A burning sensation throbs through my leg. He begins the third. The pain is dizzying, my stomach turning over itself in knots. The knife is inside of my thigh, following its carved path. I can feel myself losing my grip on consciousness as pain overtakes my senses. I am hyperventilating, dimly aware of my chest heaving below me. The image of Thomas standing over me blinks out, and the pain disappears.

* * *

When I awaken, I am still tied to the table. Throbbing pain pulses through me. I almost do not wish to look at my thigh for fear of fainting once more. I swallow the bile in my throat and look down at my leg. Thomas did not bother to clean up, and the blood has dried and thickened over my thigh and the tabletop. I cannot see the skin beneath. The wound has not yet stopped bleeding. I can see fresh blood continuing to seep from the gaping slashes. My stomach churns.

I am completely powerless against Thomas. It has been over a week and no assassin has come to save me. I am starving and dehydrated, too weak to escape on my own. How long will it be until I can no longer tell the difference between reality and fantasy? I have heard of explorers that suffer from dehydration in the desert; they descend into madness. I already heard Jacob's voice, when will it happen again?

The door opens.

"You're awake."

Thomas approaches me from the door, standing over me with a bucket. I want to get away from him, but I cannot move. He gazes down at me. A look of pity blossoms in his eyes. His fingers caress my cheek.

"Oh, Jessa. How are you feeling?"

How am I feeling? What has happened to him? He cares again? No. Not possible. This is just an act.

"Not well." I manage to respond, swallowing the dryness of my throat.

"You've lost a lot of blood. I've brought you some food, love, if you're hungry. Around here, food is a privilege. You must earn it. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Good girl."

His fingers brush over my cheekbone once more before he turns his attention to my leg. Withdrawing a cloth from the bucket, he wrings out the water and begins to clean the blood. He gets closer and closer to the wound, and when the cloth makes contact, I cannot help but let out a small whimper.

"It is your punishment, love."

As if that is supposed to make it hurt less. My _punishment_. I grit my teeth against the sting of the water on the wound. He is gentle, but he has no qualms about causing pain.

"Thomas… Why am I here?"

He touch lightens against my thigh as he reacts to my question. Perhaps I can attempt to distract him. It takes every ounce of strength within me to hold still.

"I could not allow those _assassins_ to taint you, to make you believe things about me that weren't true."

"What sorts of things?"

He pauses in his work to briefly stroke my hair, "That I am evil, that I want to hurt you."

"But you have. You said that you would never hurt me, and you have."

He turns away from me and continues to wash the wound, "When our plan was discovered back at your family's estate and you were taken from me… I knew it was no longer about the money. I fell in love with you, Jessamine. I had to get you back. I have seen what they have done to you, what you have been made to believe. In order for us to be together again, you must be cleansed, purified."

"You… love me? But you murdered my parents, burned my home to the ground!"

"They were keeping us apart. I did what I had to do."

He loves me? And all this time, I thought it was an act. It was not. How twisted a story is ours. He is dangerous, psychotic. This is love? He finishes cleaning the wound, but does not bandage it. The blood continues to seep.

"Will you not bandage it?"

"No, love. You must never cover that mark."

"Why?"

"Because you are mine." he says, as if it were the simplest answer in the world.

"Mine."

 _ **hey y'all! how've you been? it's been a moment. basically what we learned from this chapter is that thomas is cancelled. i hope you enjoyed! but not too much. this wasn't a very happy chapter. let me know what you thought, don't hesitate to leave a review or favorite/follow me! i love talking with you. you're pretty cool. see you next chapter! xoxo**_


	22. Chapter 22

Thomas gave me a few bites of bread and some water before he departed. My stomach is revolting against me, but I have moved past the stage of stomach pangs. Now, I only feel numb. My thigh is in no better condition than before, but it seems to have slowed in its bleeding. My muscles ache from being held in one position for so long, and the wooden surface of the table has done nothing to bring comfort. I have no way of telling time, no way of knowing whether it is the sun or the moon that is shining outside of my prison walls. I slip in and out of a dreamless stupor.

The door opens.

"Jessamine!"

"Jacob?"

He appears above me, almost in a haze.

"Jacob!"

"We have to get out of here."

Jacob withdraws his kukri and makes quick work of the rope holding me down. I move to climb from the table, but pain in my thigh freezes me in my progress. I squeeze my eyes shut to banish the sensation, and when I reopen them, Jacob is gone.

"Jacob?"

There is no answer. Only silence. I test my bonds, already knowing their condition. I am still restrained, and he is not here. I bite my cracked bottom lip in an effort to control my tears, but perhaps rather dishearteningly, no water wells up anyway. I suppose I do not have enough water to spare. The sensation of crying stings my dry eyes.

The door opens.

"Hello, love."

Thomas approaches, his face appearing above me. His brow furrows.

"Are you crying?"

"No."

"Lying to me now, are we?"

"I am not! I am not, I swear."

He looks down at me with disdain, "They have clearly done worse to you than I thought. I will have to start today. I was going to wait until your bleeding stopped, but there's no time to waste."

His face disappears from above me as he retreats to the door, knocking. The door opens. "Come." Thomas commands.

I hear more boots on the wooden boards. Two more men, if I am not hallucinating. These days, one can never be too sure what is real and what is not.

"Cut her bonds."

"Sir?"

"She won't try to get away. She hasn't had more than two pieces of bread in the past two weeks, Jack, look at her."

I hear a sigh as the boots approach. I want to cover myself, but I cannot move to do so. Two unfamiliar faces appear above me. They do not look at me. One man cuts the rope holding my arms down, the other removes my ankle bindings.

"Strip her."

White hot terror and embarrassment manifest into a red blush on my cheeks. One man harshly clears his throat. They still refuse to look at me. He starts at my feet, removing my boots and socks, and getting rid of my pants and undergarments. The jostling of my thigh ratchets up my heartbeat. The other begins to undo the buckles of my jacket, slipping it over my shoulders. My vest and shirt follow, and when he is unable to remove my corset, he cuts through it with his knife. The nonexistent tears prick my eyes once more. My corset…

"Up." Thomas says from the doorway.

One grasps my ankles and the other beneath my arms, hoisting me into the air and off of the table. My body screams in protest, my aching joints stiffly swinging into place. My wound is burning almost as brightly as my face. They carry me to the corner of the room. The man holding my ankles sets me down, but I cannot even hope to stand on my own. The other man holds me up. My wrists are raised into the air and snapped into the metal shackles dangling from the ceiling. My ankles are attached to the shackles on the floor. I am dangling like da Vinci's Vitruvian Man, completely exposed and humiliated.

"You may leave."

The men almost trip over each other in their rush to get out the door. It slams behind them. It would seem that even the brutal Aces are no match for the wickedness of Thomas Morgan. The shackles dig into my wrists, all of my weight being suspended there. Thomas observes me from his spot at the table, his eyes roaming over my body. I can feel droplets of blood trickling down my leg. They land with a dull tap on the wooden floor, creating a melancholy rhythm.

"Why are you doing this? I am in pain."

"That is precisely the point. As much as it hurts me to do so, this is for your own good. You must see the truth, or die trying."

"What truth?"

"Do not lie to me when I ask you these questions. Do you understand?"

"I — I understand."

I am trembling. Intense discomfort and stinging pain swirl within me, fighting to break me.

"Do you believe in the Brotherhood, in their mission?"

To safeguard the freedom of humanity, to work in the dark to serve the light. I do believe in it. Why do I feel that is the wrong answer?

"Yes."

"Do you believe that Jacob and Evie Frye are good?"

I swallow, "Yes."

"Do you believe the Templars are evil?"

"Yes."

"Thank you for your honesty."

He walks to the door again, knocking. It opens, the men from before are standing on the other side. They hand Thomas a sack, and shut the door. Thomas sets the sack on the table and reaches inside. He withdraws a birch whip. Oh God.

"Now, Jessamine. There is a rule to this game. Only one. You cannot lie to me. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Good girl. Now, I will ask again. Do you believe in the mission of the Brotherhood?"

"No."

His hand snaps forward, the whip cracking against my belly with a fiery heat. I cry out, but cannot get away.

"Lying. We do not lie. Do you believe in the mission of the Brotherhood?"

"Yes!"

The whip snaps against the delicate skin of my stomach again. I cannot stop the scream that escapes me.

"That was the wrong answer."

If I tell the truth, I am whipped. If I lie, I am whipped. How am I to win?

"Do you believe in the mission of the Brotherhood?"

"Yes." I whimper, helpless to his control.

The whip cracks through the air again, my stomach hot with welts. Dread seizes my lungs and keeps my breathing short.

"Now, Jessamine, you must understand why you are wrong. The Brotherhood seeks to allow society to govern themselves completely alone, without guidance. They aim to create anarchy, to propel mankind towards a descent to madness. Humanity's freedom does not need to be _safeguarded_ as they suggest, it needs to be controlled. Humans are meant to be shepherded to greatness. Humans cannot live without control. Do you understand?"

"I understand." I pant, fighting to breathe through the pain.

"Good girl. Do you believe in the mission of the Brotherhood?"

"Yes."

He whips me again. My thoughts turn hazy as pain clouds my judgement.

"Why is it that you believe, Jessa?"

"They want to create an equal world," I protest, "Where no one can exercise unjust power or control, where human beings can live in peace and harmony."

He laughs, a sharp, terrifying sound, "And you honestly believe that humans are capable of doing so? It is human nature to dominate, to rise above, to survive. There is no such thing as world peace. It cannot be done."

Thomas gazes at me for another moment, a look of pity on his face, before stowing the birch whip in the sack. He walks to the door and knocks once. It opens.

"Remember what I told you, Jessamine. Food is a privilege."

* * *

It has been at least several more days since I have eaten anything, but how can I know? I can never tell if I am in darkness or daylight. The weakness has spread through my limbs and deteriorated my will to survive. I am going to die here, and I have accepted that fact. Jacob will never find me. Thomas's beatings have numbed me. I can no longer feel my wrists where they dangle from the shackles. Even the fact that I am stark naked no longer perturbs me. Perhaps he wants to kill me, perhaps he does not. His violent mood swings are unpredictable. One moment, he is slicing my arms open with a knife. The next, he is kissing me senseless. He says that he loves me, that I am sick and he must cure me. I do not know what to believe anymore.

The door opens.

"Hello, love. Are you ready for our session?"

"Yes."

"Good girl. I want you to know that I have brought you some food, and you may have it if you earn it."

I do not answer, it takes too much energy to do so. I cannot even lift my head.

"Now tell me, Jessamine. What is your current opinion of Jacob and Evie Frye?"

"They have abandoned me."

"I see. And how does that make you feel?"

"Heartbroken. Alone."

"You mustn't feel alone, Jessa. I'm here."

My head snaps up, eyes meeting Jacob's warm golden gaze. He's here. Hope stirs in my chest. I blink and the image wavers. I fight to keep it, but Jacob is gone. Thomas is staring at me, emerald eyes cold and dispassionate. The strength that kept my head up disappears.

"If Jacob and Evie abandoned you so quickly, what makes you believe in the Brotherhood?"

"Nothing."

"Do you believe in the Brotherhood and its mission, Jessamine?"

"No."

"Very good. And why is that?"

"They are dishonest. They say they want to protect the human race. They have done nothing to protect me."

"You have earned your meal."

Immense gratitude washes over me as Thomas approaches. He gently lifts my head, placing a piece of bread at my lips. I muster up all of the energy I have to chew and swallow. He gives me water and a few more pieces of bread before he withdraws his hands, smiling at me.

"You've done well, love. I'm very proud of you. I'll come back tomorrow, and we shall see if you earn your meal once again."

He kisses me once, softly, before retreating to the door. He knocks, giving me a tender backwards glance as he slips through. I am alone.

* * *

The line between reality and fantasy continues to blur. It is so difficult to tell what is real now. All I know is that Thomas feeds me. And loves me. He is good. He carved out all the evil within me, showed me what was right. The Brotherhood is wrong. Jacob and Evie are delusional murderers. They have forsaken me.

The door opens.

"Good morning, love. How did you sleep?"

"Well, thank you." I hear myself say, though I wonder when I last slept. It is morning?

"I have brought your meal."

I raise my head to accept his offering. The bread is cold and stale. The water is tepid. Jacob kisses my forehead.

"You have done well these past few weeks, Jessa. It's time to get down."

Thomas produces a key from his pocket and lowers to the ground. A lock clicks, and my right ankle is free. It dangles limply beneath me. He releases the other. My thigh is still very much in pain, having hardly healed. Thomas inflicted many other cuts along my legs and hips, bruises color my skin like ink blots on paper. He reaches up. I hear a lock click above me. My right hand drops to my side, my arm completely numb. I can hardly move it, so I do not try. Jacob wraps an arm around my waist to catch me as the final shackle is released. I lay like a doll in his arms, no strength to hold me up. He lays me on the wooden table. The instruments of torture were removed several days ago. Perhaps several hours ago. I cannot tell.

"How do you feel?"

"Numb."

"That's to be expected. I'll be back tomorrow for your lesson."

Thomas kisses my lips; I expect it must feel like kissing a corpse. I am nothing but bones and a broken spirit. Jacob leaves.

* * *

More days have passed, I am sure, but I do not know how many. My ribs protrude rather starkly from my torso, I feel as light as a feather. No matter, it makes it easier for Thomas to move me. He stops feeding me if he is in a bad mood. He keeps a knife on the table for when he is angry. I do all that I can to please him. I want to please him.

The door opens.

"Hello, Jessamine. I have brought you your meal."

Thomas appears above me, caressing my cheek with his hand. He holds my head up and feeds me my few pieces of bread and cup of water.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Fine, thank you." I say, knowing that is what he would like to hear.

The sounds of footsteps thump above us, many pairs of boots. Muffled shouting. Thomas glances up at the ceiling before turning his attention back to me.

"And you slept well?"

"Yes." I did not sleep.

"Jessamine!"

A muffled cry, far away. I am simply hearing things. Thomas tenses beside me, his eyes darkening. He is angry. What did I say?

"Jessamine!"

My name. That is my name. I would know that voice anywhere. Why is it that this hallucination sounds… different?

"Jacob?"

"Silence, Jessa." Thomas growls, laying me back down on the table.

"Jessamine!"

That's Jacob. That is Jacob's voice. Is Jacob here? No. He cannot be here. But Thomas hears it too.

"Jessa!" the voice is louder.

"Jacob!"

"Be quiet!" Thomas shouts, backhanding me across the face.

"Jessamine! Jessa, I'm coming!"

"Jacob!"

"I said silence!" Thomas hits me again. I taste blood.

I hear the pounding of boots on the wooden planks. The door bursts open. Jacob Frye stands in the doorway, not any sort of hallucination. It's him. He is truly here.

"Jessa. Jesus Christ. You!"

Jacob charges at Thomas, but Thomas is ready. The two men collide with fury, Jacob's kukri slicing through the air with the force of ten men. Thomas barely has room to get a blow in beneath Jacob's attacks. He dodges one stab after another, the two of them making their way around the room in a frenzy of jabs and parries. Thomas manages to block Jacob's thrust, slicing Jacob's arm through his jacket. I see his blood, awakening something within me. This is Jacob. My Jacob. He is here, he has not abandoned me. How could I believe he had?

I dredge up strength I did not even know I possessed. I close my fingers around the knife Thomas used to torture me. It is coated in my blood. I throw one leg over the side of the table, then the other. My legs give out beneath me, but I stop my fall by holding myself up on the table. The exertion nearly makes me faint, but I push forward. I must push forward. Thomas is only a few steps away from me. I have to do it. Even if it kills me.

With a cry that is broken and small, I launch myself forward with all of my might and bury my knife into the side of Thomas's neck. My legs cannot support my body weight, but I force myself to hold on. He makes a strange gurgling sound as his hands find their way to his neck. The knife slices downwards as I sink to the floor, through his neck, shoulder blade, and down his back. Blood sprays across my face and chest as I collapse.

I cannot move anymore. Heavy gasps wrack my chest. Thomas falls beside me, bleeding profusely. He convulses and chokes, his blood pooling around him and staining his white shirt. He tries valiantly to say something, but I cannot make it out. His eyes bulge from his effort, the hand not clamping his neck stretching towards me. Frozen in fear, I stare at the approaching fingertips, dripping with tainted blood. He falters, his hand slowly lowering to the floor. Thomas stills. His eyes, unseeing, bore into mine. He is dead. Tears pool in my eyes. I am trembling. I could never have guessed that the first life I was to take would belong to Thomas.

"We have to go."

Jacob removes his coat and wraps me in it, scooping me into his arms and rushing from the room. We leave Thomas behind. The room that has been my prison is behind me. I am free. I am waiting to wake up from this dream, waiting to open my eyes to four wooden walls and dim lantern light. I grip his jacket with all of my might, the rough fabric beneath my fingertips grounding me in reality.

Jacob storms through the stronghold, past the massive battle taking place in seemingly every corridor. The sounds of metal on metal and the grunts and shouts of combat fill my ears. He runs through it all, stopping for nothing and no one. He kicks open a door and bright sunlight suddenly illuminates my surroundings, blinding me. I have not seen sunlight in so long. Jacob runs through a small yard and down an alleyway towards a carriage. A familiar head of dark hair is waiting in the driver's seat. Evie claps a hand over her mouth and begins to cry.

"Jessamine, thank God! Thank God."

Her attention is drawn to something behind us, she wipes her eyes, "We need to leave."

"I'm not leaving her. I'm coming with you."

"But Henry —"

"They'll be fine. He'll be fine. Drive!"

Evie throws open the door to the carriage and Jacob climbs inside, his grip on me never wavering. Evie slams the door and the carriage speeds off. I sink into his arms, leaning my head against his chest. My eyes slip closed. All I feel at the moment is an overwhelming urge to sleep. Jacob's hands run through my hair and over my body, almost reassuring himself that I am real.

"You're safe, darling. You're safe. I am never going to let you go again," his voice breaks, "I will never forgive myself for letting this happen to you."

I open my eyes to find his trained on mine, watery and broken. I force myself to lift my shaking hand, resting it on his unshaven cheek.

"It's all right."

He lays a hand on top of mine, holding it to his face. The image flickers, then disappears. I slip into a deep sleep for the first time in a long time.

 _ **hi! i missed you! i hope you enjoyed. our story will be drawing to a close soon, i hope you're as ready as i am to reach the conclusion of this adventure. thank you for reading. tell me what you thought in a review! i'm curious to see your reactions to this chapter. see you soon! xoxo**_


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